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A FARCICAL ROMANCE 

BY 

F. ANSTEY 

Author of “VICE VERSA,” “THE GIANT’S 
ROBE,” Etc. 


Entered at the Post Office, N. Y., as second-class matter. 
Copyright, 1SS4, by John W.Lovkll Co. 


iNCVr-YORK 


+ JO HN'W* Lovell* conpAN.Y,* 

: t4. VES£Y STRCf 


-.N’S 

^ STORE 

TAW ST. 

JRE, MD 


^f OF THrBEST CURRCTT A STAKDXRDITTEKKrtia 


TINTED VENUS 


Vol. 10. No. 616. June 27, 1863. Annual Snbocri.nfon, ^30.00. 


THE. 


i W ' ' 








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531 Keats’s Poems 

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.533 Principles and Fa 

of Socialism 

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and Painting, Ru 

538 The Ways of Pro vi> 

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510 Works of Virgil 

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kin, 3 Vols., each 

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rt t Stories for Parent! 

555 Aurora Flovd 

556 Dame Durden, by ” 

557 Count Robert of P 

558 Fair, but False, by 
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560 Adventurers, by A: 

561 Portraits of John F 

562 Oak Openings, by t 

563 Seed-Time and Ha 

564 Hand-Book for Kite 

565 Modern Painters. 

I., by Riiskin. . .. 

566 Arundel klotto. by 

567 Trail- Hunter, by A 
561 Words for the Wise 
569 The Abbot, by Scot 
.570 Satan stoe, by Coop 
571 Count Cagliostro, e 
57^ Modern Painters. Y 

573 I’earl of the Andes 

574 Stories for Yoimg I 

keepers 

575 QuentmDurward.. 

576 Chain-Bearer, by C 

577 Mod. Painters. Vo 

578 Fred’k the Great. Y 

579 Lessons in Life 

580 Fred’k the Great. V' 

581 Talisman, by Scott 

582 Off-Hand Sketches 
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584 Wise Women of Ir 

ness 

585 Tried and Tempted 

586 St. Ronan's Well.. 

587 Ways of the Hour 

588 To the Bitter Eiv 

589 Modern PainteiT 
590, Old IMvddelton’ 

591 Fred’k the Gre; 

592 That Terrible , 

593 Between Twf i 

594 A Summer ir 

595 Anne of Ge . 

596 Dead Sea 7 

597 Fettered f' 

598 King of tl 

599 Like Di.a’ ■ 

600 A BriglP • 

601 Precaiit 

602 Oliver’' 

603 Red- s' 

604 Sidor 


THE 


iNTED Venus 


A FARCICAL ROMANCE 


BY 

F. ANSTEY 

AUTHOR OF “vice VERSA” AND “ THE OIANT’s ROBE ” 


8CUG51T, SOLO AOii EXOHAT^ 
plPPBil’S OLD BOOK STOHn, 
605 NOPTH STREFl , 

NEW YORK 

JOHN VV. LOVELL COM PAN ' 

14 AND 16 Vesey Street 




THE TINTED VENUS. 


CHAPTER I. 

THE PURSUIT OF PLEASURE. 

“ Ther hopped Hawkyn, 

Ther daunsed Dawkyn, 

Ther trumped Tomkyn , . 

The Tournat?ient of Tottenham. 

In Southampton Row, Bloomsbury, there is a small 
aTey or passage leading into Queen Square, and rendered 
inaccessible to all but foot-passengers by some iron posts. 
The shops in this passage are of a subdued exterior, and 
are overshadowed by a dingy old edifice dedicated to St. 
George the Martyr, which seems to have begun its exist- 
ence as a rather handsome chapel, and to have improved 
itself, by a sort of natural selection, into a singularly ugly 
hurch. 

Into this alley, one Saturday afternoon late in October, 
ime a short, stout young man, with sandy air, and a per- 
petual grin denoting anticipation rather than enjoyment. 
)pposite the church he stopped at a hairdresser’s shop, 
/hich bore the name of Tweddle. The display in the 
'dndow was chastely severe ; the conventional half-lady 
•evolving slowly in fatuous self-satisfaction, and the gentle- 
man bearing a piebald beard with waxen resignation, were 
■ ot to be found in this shop front, which exhibited nothing 
: <ut a small pile of toilet remedies and a few lengths of 
Tair of graduated tints. It was doubtful, perhaps, whether 
uch self-restraint on the part of its proprietor was the re- 
ult of a distaste for empty show, or a conviction that the 
leighborhood did not expect it. 

Inside the shop there was nobody but a small boy, cork- 
ng and labelling bottles ; but before he could answer any 


question as to the whereabouts of his employer, that artist 
made his appearance. Leander Tvveddle was about thirty, 
of middle height, with a luxuriant head of brown hair, and 
carefully-trimmed whiskers that curled round toward his 
upper lip, where they spent themselves in a faint mus- 
tache. His eyes were rather small, and his nose had a 
decided upward tendency ; but with his pink and white 
complexion and compact, well-made figure he was far from 
ill-looking, though he thought himself even farther. 

“ Well, Jauncy,” he said, after the first greetings, “ so you 
haven’t forgot our appointment ? ” 

“Why, no,” explained his friend ; “but I never thought 
I should get away in time to keep it. We’ve been in court 
all the morning with motions and short causes, and the old 
Vice sat on till past three ; and when we did get back to 
chambers Splitter kept me there discussing an opinion of 
his I couldn’t quite agree with, and I was ever so long be- 
fore I got him to alter it my way.” 

For he was clerk to a barrister in good practice, and it 
was Jauncy’s pride to discover an occasional verbal slip in 
some of his employer’s more hastily-written opinions on 
cases, and suggest improvements. 

“Well, James,” said the hairdresser, “I don’t know that 
I could have got away myself any earlier. I’ve been so ab- 
sorbed in the laborrit’ry, what Avith three rejuvenators and 
an elixir all on the simmer together, I almost gave way 
under the strain of it ; but they’re set to cool now, and I’m 
ready to go as soon as you please.” 

“Now,” said Jauncy, briskly, as they left the shop to- 
gether, “ if we’re to get up to Rosherwich Gardens to-night, 
we mustn’t dawdle.” 

“I just want to look in here a minute,” said Tweddle, 
stopping before the window of a working jeweller, who sat 
there in a narrow partition facing the light, Avith a great 
horn lens protruding from one of his eyes like a monstrous 
growth. “ I left something here to be altered, and I may 
as Avell see if it’s done.” 

Apparently it Avas done, for he came out almost imme- 
charcly, thrusting a small cardboard box into his pocket 
as he rejoined his friend. “Now Ave’d better take a cab 
up to henchurch Street,” said JauncA^ “Can’t keep 
those girls standing about on the platform.” 

As they drove along, TAA^eddle observed, “ I didn’t un- 
derstand that our party Avas to include tlie fair sect, 
James?” 


THE TINTED TENDS. 


^ “ Didn’t you ? I thought my letter said so plain enoiigb. 
I m an engaged man now, you know, Tweddle. It wou dn t 
do if I went out to enjoy myself and .left mv vouno- ..Hv- 
at home ! ” 

“ No,” agreed Leander Tweddle with a moral • twinge, 
“no, James. I’d forgot you were engaged. What’s ttie 
lady’s name, by-tlie-by .? ” * 

“ Parkinson ; Bella Parkinson,” was the answer. 

Leander had turned a deeper color. “ Did you s ly . ' 
he asked, looking out of the window on his side of i.i.y 
hansom, “ that there was another lady going down?” 

• “Only Bella’s sister, Ada. She’s a" regular jolly jiri. 
Ada is, you’ll — hullo!” 

For Tweddle had suddenly thrust his stick up the n p 
and stopped the cab. “I’m very sorry, James,” he Su'xi, 
preparing to get out, “ but — but you’ll have to excuse me 
being of your company.” 

“Do you mean that my Bella and her sister are . ot 
good enough company for you?” demanded Jaui('). 
“ You were a shop assistant yourself, Tweddle, onl . ,i 
short while ago ! ” 

“ I know that, James, I know ; and it isn’t that — fa - 
from it. I’m sure tj|||py are two as respectable girls, ;uk1 
quite the ladies in every respect, as I’d wish to mc-v, 
Only the fact is ” 

The driver was listening through the trap, and befoo- 
Leander would say more he told him to drive on till fu; 
ther orders, after which he continued ; 

“ The fact is — we haven’t met for so long that I daresay 
you’re unaware of it — but I'm engaged, James, too ! ” 

“Wish you joy with all my heart, Tweddle ; but wliat 
then ? ” 

“Why,” exclaimed Leander, “my Matilda (that’s ? 
name) is the dearest girl, James; but she’s most uncou. 
mon partickler, and I don’t think she’d like my going ■ 
a place of open-air entertainment where there’s dancing - 
and I’ll get out here, please ! ” 

“ Gammon !” said Jauncy, “ that isn’t it, Tweddle ; do-i'i 
try and luimbug me. You were ready enough to go jus-; 
now. You’ve a better reason than that!” 

“James, I’ll tell you the truth, I have. In earlier days, 
James, I used constantly to be meeting this Miss Parkin- 
son and her sister in serciety, and I daresay I made myscU 
so pleasant and agreeable (you know what a way that is of 
mine) that Miss Ada (not your lady, of course) may have 


6 


THE TINTED VENUS. 


thought I meant something special by it, and there’s no 
saying but what it might have come in time to our keep- 
ing company, only I happened just then to see Matilda, 
and — and I haven’t been near the Parkinsons ever since. 
So you can see for yourself that a meeting might be awk- 
ward for all parties concerned, and I really must get out, 
James ! ” 

Jauncy forced him back. “It’s all nonsense, Tweddle,” 
he said, “vou can’t back out of it now. Don’t make a 
fuss about nothing. Ada don’t look as if she’d been 
breaking her heart for you ! ’’ 

“You never can tell with women,’’ said the hairdresser, 
sententiously ; “ and meeting me sudden, and learning it 
could never be — no one can say how she mightn’t take it!” 

“I call it too bad,” exclaimed Jauncy. “ Here have I 
been counting on you to make the ladies enjoy themselves 
— for I haven’t your gift of entertaining conversation, and 
don’t pretend to it — and you go and leave me in the lurch, 
and spoil their evening for them ! ” 

“If I thought I was doing that — ” said Leander, hesi- 
tating. 

“You are, you know you are!” persisted Jauncy, who 
was anxious to avoid the reduction of his party to so in- 
convenient a number as three. 

“And see here, Tweddle, you needn’t say anything of 
your engagement unless you like. I give you inv word I 
won’t, not even to Bella, if you’ll only come ! As to Ada, 
she can take care of herself, unless I’m very much mis- 
taken in her. So come along, like a good chap ! ” 

“I give in, James ; I give in,” said Leander. “A prom- 
ise is a promise, and yet I feel somehow I’m doing wrong 
to go, and as if no good would come of it, I do indeed ! ” 
And so he did not stop the cab a second time, and al- 
lowed himself to be taken without further protest to Fen- 
church Street station, on the platform of which they found 
the Misses Parkinson waiting for them. 

Miss Bella Parkinson, the elder of the two, who was em- 
ployed in a large toy and fancy goods establishment in the 
neighborhood of Westbourne Grove, was tall and slim, 
with pale eyes and auburn hair. She had some claims to 
good looks, in spite of a slightly pasty complexion and a 
large and decidedly unamiable mouth. 

Her sister Ada was the more pleasing in appearance and 
manner, a brunette with large brown eyes, an impertinent 
little nose, and a brilliant, healthy color. She was an as- 


THE TiyrED VENUS. 


7 


sistant to a milliner and bonnetmaker in the Edgeware 
Road. 

Both these young ladies, when in the fulfilment of their 
daily duties, were models of deportment ; in their hours 
of ease, the elder’s cold dignity was rather apt to turn to 
peevishness, while the younger sister, relieved from the 
restraints of the showroom, betrayed a lively and even 
frivolous disposition. 

It was this liveliness and frivolity that had fascinated the 
hairdresser in days that had gone by ; but if he had felt 
any self-distrust now in venturing within their influence, 
such apprehensions vanished with the first sight of the 
charms which had been counteracted before they had time 
to prevail. 

She was well enough, this Miss Ada Parkinson, he 
thought now ; a nice-looking girl m her way, and stylishly 
dressed. But his Matilda looked twice the lady she ever 
could, and a vision of his betrothed (at that time taking a 
week’s rest in the country) rose before him, as if to justify 
and confirm his preference. 

The luckless James had to undergo some amount of 
scolding from Miss Bella for his want of punctuality, a 
scolding which merely supplied an object to his grin ; and 
during her remarks Ada had ample time to rally Leander 
Tweddle upon his long neglect, and used it to the best ad- 
vantage. 

Perhaps he would have been better pleased by a little 
less insensibility, a touch of surprise and pleasure on her 
part at meeting him again, as he allowed himself to show 
in a remark that his absence did not seem to have affected 
her to any great extent. 

“ I don’t know what you expected, Mr. Tweddle,” she 
replied. “ Ought I to have cried both my eyes out ? You 
haven’t cried out either of yours, you know ! ” 

“ ‘ Men must work and women must weep,’ as Shake- 
speare says,” he observed, with a vague idea that he was 
making rather an apt quotation. But his companion point- 
ed out that this only applied to cases where the women 
had something to weep about. 

The party had a compartment to themselves, and Leander, 
who sat at one end opposite to Ada, found his spirits ris- 
ing under the influence of her lively sallies. 

“That’s the only thing Matilda wants,” he thought, “a 
little more liveliness and go about lier. I like a little chaff 
myself, now and then, I must say.” 


.8 


THE TINTED VENUS. 


At the Other end of the carriage, Bella had been suggest- 
ing that the Gardens might be closed so late in the year, 
and regretting that tliey had not chosen the new melodrama 
at the Adelphi instead ; which caused Jauncy to draw glow- 
ing pictures of the attractions of Rosherwich Gardens. 

“I was there a year ago last summer,” he said, “ and it 
was first-rate ; open-air dancing, summer theatre, rope- 
walking, fireworks, and supper out under the trees. You’ll 
enjoy yourself, Bella, right enough when you get there ! ” 

“ If that isn’t enough for you, Bella,” cried her sister, 
“you must be difficult to please! I’m sure I’m quite 
looking forward to it, aren’t you, Mr. Tweddle ?” 

The poor man was cursed with the fatal desire of pleas- 
ing, and unconsciously threw an altogether unnecessary 
degree of empresse?ne7it into his voice as he replied, “In the 
company I am at present, I should look forward to it if it 
was a wilderness, with a funeral in it.” 

“ Oh, dear me, Mr. Tweddle, that is a pretty speech ! ” 
said Ada, and she blushed in a manner which appalled the 
conscience-stricken hairdresser. “ There I go _ again,” he 
thought remorsefully, “putting things in the poor girl’s 
head — it ain’t right. I’m making myself too pleasant ! ” 

And then it struck him that it would be only prudent to 
make his position clearly understood, and, carefully lower- 
ing his voice, he began a speech with that excellent inten- 
tion : “Miss Parkinson,” he said, huskily, “there’s some- 
thing I have to tell you about myself, very particular. 
Since I last enjoyed the pleasure of meeting with you my 
prospects have greatly altered ; I am no longer ” 

But she cut him short with an little gesture of entreaty ; 
“ Oh, not here, please, Mr. Tweddle,” she said ; “ tell me 
about it in the gardens ! ” 

“Very well,” he said, relieved; “remind me when wc 
get there — in case I forget, you know.” 

“Remind you!” cried Ada; “the idea^ Mr. Tweddle! 
I certainly shan’t do any such thing.” 

“ She thinks I am going to propose to her,” he thought, 
ruefully ; “ it will be a delicate business undeceiving hen 
I wish it was over and done with ! ” . 

It was quite dark by the time they crossed the river by 
the ferry, and made their way up to the entrance to the 
pleasure gardens, imposing enough, with its white colon- 
nade, is sphinxes, and lines of colored lamps. 

But no one else had crossed with them ; and, as they 
stood at the turnstiles, all they could see of the grounds 


7'HE TINTED VENUS. 


9 


beyond seemed so dark and silent that they began to have 
involuntary misgivings. “ I suppose,” said Jauncy to the 
man at the ticket-hole, “ the gardens are open, eh ?” 

“ Oh, yes,” he said gruffly, they re open — they’re open ; 
though there ain’t much going on out of doors, being the 
last night of the season.” Bella again wished that they 
had selected the Adelphi for their evening’s pleasure, and 
remarked that Jauncy “ might have known.” 

“Well,” said the latter to the party generally, “what do 
you say — shall we go in, or get back by the first train 
home ?” 

“ Don’t be so ridiculous, James,” said Bella peevishly ; 
“ what’s the good of going back, to be too late for every- 
thing ? The mischiefs done now.” 

“Oh, let’s go in!” advised Ada, “the amusements and 
things will be just as nice indoors — nicer on a chilly eve- 
ning like this ; ” and Leader seconded her heartily. 

So they went in ; Jauncy leading the way with the still 
complaining Bella, and Leander Tweddle bringing up 
the rear with Ada. They picked their way as well as they 
coidd in the darkness, caused by the closely planted trees 
and shrubs, down a winding path, where the sopped leaves 
gave a slippery foothold, and the branches flicked moisture 
insultingly in their faces as they pushed them aside. 

A dead silence reigned everywhere, broken only by the 
wind as it rustled amongst the bare twigs, or the whistling 
of a flaring gas-torch protruding from some convenient 
tree. 

Jauncy occasionally shouted back some desperate essay 
at jocularity, at which Ada laughed with some persever- 
ance, until even she could no longer resist the influence of 
the surroundings. 

On a hot summer’s evening those grounds, brilliantly 
illuminated and crowded by holiday-makers, have been 
the delight of thousai ds of honest Londoners, and will be 
so again ; but it was undeniable that on this particular oc- 
casion they were pervaded by a decent melancholy. 

Ada had slipped a hand, clad in crimson silk, through 
Leander’s arm, as they groped through the gloom together, 
and shrank to his side now and then in an alarm which was 
only half pretended. But if her light pressure upon his 
arm made his heart beat at all faster, it was only at the 
fancy that the trusting hand was his Matilda’s, or so at 
least did he account for it to himself afterward. 

They followed on, down a broad promenade, where the 


lO 


THE TINTED VENUS. 


ground glistened with autumn damps, and the unlighted 
lamps looked wan and spectral. There was a bear-pit hard 
by, over the railings of which Ada leaned and shouted a 
defiant “ Boo ! ” but the bears had turned in for the night, 
and the stone re-echoed her voice with a hollow ring. In- 
distinct bird forms were roosting in cages ; but her umbrel- 
la had no effect upon them. 

Jauncy was waiting for them to come up, perhaps as a 
protection against his fiancee’s reproaches. “ In another 
hour,” he said, with an implied apology, “you’ll see how 
different this place looks : we — we’re come a little too 
early. Suppose we fill up the time by a nice little dinner 
at the Restorong ; eii, Ada ? What clo you think, Twed- 
dle ? ” 

The suggestion was received favorably, and Jauncy, 
thankful to retrieve his reputation as leader, took them 
toward the spot where food was to be had. 

Presently they saw lights twinkling through the trees, 
and came to a place which was clearly the focus of festiv- 
ity ; there was the open-air theatre, its dropscene lowered, 
its proscenium lost in the gloom ; there was the circle for 
al-fresco dancing, but it was bare, and the clustered lights 
were dead ; there was the restaurant, dark and silent like 
all else. 

Jauncy stood there and rubbed his chin : “This is where 
I dined when we were here last,” he said, at length ; “and 
a capital little dinner they gave us too I ” 

“What / should like to know,” said the elder Miss Park- 
inson, “is, where we are to dine to-night.” 

“Yes,” said Jauncy, encouragingly, “ don’t you fret your- 
self, Bella. Plere’s an old party sweeping up leaves, we’ll 
ask him.” They did so, and were referred to a large build- 
ing, in the Gothic style, with a Tudor doorway, known as 
the “ Baronial ’All,” where lights shone behind the painted 
windows. 

Inside, a few of the lamps around the pillars were lighted, 
and the body of the floor was roped in as if for dancing ; 
but the hall was empty, save for a barmaid, assisted by a 
sharp little girl, behind the long bar on one of its sides.. 

> Jauncy led his dejected little party up to this, and again 
put his inquiry with less hopefulness. When he found that 
the only available form of refreshment that evening was 
bitter ale and captain’s biscuits, mitigated by occasional 
caraway seeds, he became a truly pitiable object. 

“They— they don’t keep this place up on the same scale 


THE TIN'J'ED VENUS. 


II 


in the autumn, you see,” he explained weakly ; it’s very 
different in summer, what they. call ‘an endless round of 
amusements.’ ” 

“There’s an endless round of amusements now,” observed 
Ada ; “ but it’s a naught ! ” 

“ Oh, there will be something going on by-and-by, never 
fear,” said Jauncy, determined to be sanguine; “ or else 
they wouldn’t be open.” 

“There will be dancing here this evening,” the barmaid 
informed him ; “ that is all we open for at this time of year, 
and this is the last niglit of the season.” 

“Oh ! ” said Jauncy cheerfully, “you see we only came 
just in time, Bella ; and I suppose you will have a good 
many down here to-night, eh, Miss?” 

“ How much did we take last Saturday, Jenny? ” said the 
barmaid to the sharp little girl. 

“ Seven and fourpence ’ap’ny — most of it beer,” said the 
child. “ Margaret, I may count the money again to-night, 
mayn’t I ? ” 

The barmaid made some mental calculation, after which 
she replied to Jauncy’s question: “We may have some fif- 
teen couples or so down to-night,” she said ; “but that won’t 
be for half an hour yet.” 

“The question is,” said Jauncy, trying to bear up under 
this last blow ; “ the question is. How are we to amuse our- 
selves till the dancing begins?” 

“I don’t know what others are going to do,” Bella an- 
nounced; “but I shall stay here, James, and keep warm — 
if I can ! ” and once more she uttered her regret that they 
had not gone to the Adelphi. 

Her sister declined to follow her example : “ I mean to 
see all there is to be seen,” she declared, “since we are 
here ; and perhaps Mr. Tweddle will come and take care 
of me — will you, Mr. Tweddle ? ” 

He was not sorry to comply, and they wandered out to- 
gether through the grounds, whicli offered considerable 
variety. There were alleys lined with pale plaster statues, 
and a grove dedicated to the master minds of the world, 
represented by huge busts, with more or less appropriate 
quotations. There were alcoves, too, and neatly ruined 
castles. 

Ada talked almost the Avhole time in a sprightly manner, 
which gave I.eander no opportunity of introducing the sub- 
ject of his engagement, and this continued until they had 
reached a small batt^emented platform on some rising 


THE TINTED VENUS. 


12 

ground. Below were the black masses of trees, with a faint 
fringe of light here and there ; beyond lay the Thames, in 
which red and white reflections quivered, and from whose 
distant bends and reaches came the dull roar of foghorns 
and the pantings of tugs. 

Ada sto(jd here in silence for some time ; at last slie said, 
“After all. I’m not sorry we came — areyt^// ^ ” 

“ If I don’t take care what I say, I //jaj’ be ! ” he thought, 
and answered guardedly, “On the contrary, I’m glad, for 
it gives me the opportunity of telling you something I — I 
think you ought to know.” 

“What was he going to say next ?” she thought. Was 
a declaration coming, and, if so, should she accept him ? 
She was not sure ; he had behaved very badly in keeping 
so long away from her, and a proposal would be a very 
suitable form of apology ; but there was the gentleman 
who travelled for a certain firm in the Edgeware Road ; he 
had been very “ particular ” in his attentions of late. Well, 
she would see how she felt when Leander had spoken ; he 
was beginning to speak now. 

“ I don’t want to put it too abrupt,” he said ; “ I’ll come 
to it gradually. There’s a young lady tliat I’m now look- 
ing forward to spending the whole of my future life with.” 

“ And what is she called?” asked Ada. (“He’s rather 
a nice little man, after all ! ” she was thinking). 

“'Matilda,” he said ; and the answer came like a blow in 
the face. For the moment she hated him as bitterly as if 
he had been all tlie world to her ; but she carried off her 
mortification by a rather hysterical laugh. 

“ Fancy you being engaged !” she said, by way of ex- 
planation of her merriment; “and to anyone with the 
name of Matilda — it’s such a stupid sounding sort of 
name ! ” 

“It ain’t at all : it all depends liow you say it : if you 
pronounce it as 1 do, Matilda.^ it has rather a pretty sound. 
You try, now.” 

“Well, we won’t quarrel about it, Mr. Tweddlc ; I’m 
glad it isn’t my name, that’s all. And now tell me alfl 
about your young lady : what’s her other name, and is she 
very gooey ooking ? ” 

“She’s a Miss Matilda Collum,” said he; “she is con- 
sidered handsome by competent judges, and she keeps the 
books at a florist’s in the vicinity of Bayswater.” 

“And, if it isn’t a rude question, why didn’t you bring 
her with you this evening ?” 


THE TINTED VENUS. 


13 


“ Because she’s away for a short holiday, and isn’t com- 
ing back till the last thing to-morrow night.”, 

‘'And I suppose you’ve been wishing I was Matilda all 
the time ? ” she said, audaciously ; for Miss Ada Parkinson 
was not an over-scrupulous young person, and did not 
recognize in the fact of her friend’s engagement any reason 
why she should not attempt to reclaim his vagrant admi- 
ration. 

Leander had been guilty of this wish once or twice ; but 
though he was not absolutely filled with tact, he did re- 
frain from admitting the impeachment. 

“ Well, you see,” he said, in not very happy evasion, 
“ Matilda doesn’t care about this kind of thing ; she’s 
rather particular, Matilda is.” 

“And I’m not!” said Ada. “I see; thank you, Mr. 
Tweddle ! ” 

“You do take one up so!” lie complained. “ I never 
intended nothing of the sort — far from it.” 

“ Well, then, I forgive you ; we can’t all be Matildas, I 
suppose. And now suppose we go back ; they will be 
beginning to dance by now ! ” 

“With pleasure,” he said; “only you must excuse me 
dancing, because, as an engaged man, I have had to re- 
nounce (except with one person) the charms of Terpsy- 
chore. -I mean,” he explained condescendingly, “ that I 
can’t dance in public sav^e with my intended.” 

“Ah, well,” said Ada, “perhaps Terpsy-cliore will get 
over it ; still, I should like to see the Terpsy-choring, if 
you have no objection.” 

And they returned to the Baronial Hall, which by this 
time presented a more cheerful appearance : the lamps- 
round the mirror-lined pillars were all lit, and the musi- 
cians were just striking up the opening bars of the Lan- 
cers ; upon which several gentlemen among the assembly, 
which now numbered about forty, ran out into the open 
and took up positions, like color-sergeants at drill, to be 
presently joined, in some bashfulness, by such ladies as 
desired partners. 

The Lancers were performed with extreme conscientipus- 
ness, and when it was over every gentleman with any savoir 
faire to speak of presented his partner with a glass of beer. 

Then came a waltz, to which Ada beat time impatiently 
with her foot, and bit her lip, as she had to look on by 
Leander’s side. “There’s Bella and James going round,” 
she said ; “ Tve never had to sit out a waltz before ! ” 


14 


THE TINTED VENUS. 


He felt the implied reproach, and thought whether there 
could be any harm after all in taking a turn or two ; it 
would be only polite. But before he could recant in 
words, a soldier came up, a medium-sized warrior with a large 
nose and round little eyes, who had been very funny during 
the Lancers in directing all the figures by words of mili- 
tary command. ‘‘Will you allow me the honor. Miss, of 
just one round ? ” he said to Ada, respectfully enough. 

The etiquette of this ball-room was not of the strictest ; 
but she would not have consented but for the desire of 
showing Leander that she was not dependent upon him 
for her amusement. As it was, she accepted the corporal’s 
arm a little defiantly. 

Leander watched them round the hall with an odd sen- 
sation, almost of jealousy — it was quite ridiculous, because 
he could have danced with Ada himself had he cared to 
do so ; and besides, it was not she, but Matilda, whom he 
adored. 

But, as he began to notice, Ada was looking remarkably 
pretty that evening, and really was a partner who would 
bring any one credit ; and her corporal danced villanous- 
ly, revolving with stiff and wooden jerks, like a toy soldier. 
Now Leander flattered himself he could waltz — having 
had considerable practice in bygone days in a select as- 
sembly, where the tickets were two shillings each, and the 
gentlemen, as the notices said obscurely enough, “were 
restricted to wearing gloves.” 

So he felt indignantly that Ada was not having justice 
done to her. “I’ve a good mind to give her a turn,” he 
thought, “and show them all what waltzing is !” 

Just then the pair happened to come to a halt close to 
him. “Shockin’ time they’re playing this waltz in,” he 
heard the soldier exclaim with humorous vivacity (he was 
apparently the funny man of the regiment, and had 
brought a silent but appreciative comrade with him as 
audience), “abominable! excruciatin’! comic!! ’orrible!!!” 

Leander seized the opportunity : “Excuse me,” he said 
politely, “but if you don’t like the music, perhaps you 
wouldn’t mind giving up this young lady to me ?” 

“ Oh, come, I say ! ” said the man of war, running his 
fingers through his short curly hair, “my good feller, 
you’d better see what the lady says to that ! ” (He evi- 
dently had no doubt himself.) 

“I’m very well content as I am, thank you all the same, 
Mr. Tweddle,” said Ada, unkindly adding, in a lower tone. 


7 HE TINTED VENUS. 


15 


“If you’re so anxious to dance, dance with Terpsy- 
chore ! ” 

And again he was left to watch the whirling couples 
with melancholy eyes. The corporal’s brother-in-ams was 
wheeling round with a plain young person, apparently in 
domestic service, whose face was overspread by a large 
red smile of satiated ambition. James and Bella flitted by, 
dancing vigorously, and Bella’s discontent seemed to have 
vanished for the time. There were jigging couples and 
prancing couples ; couples that bounced round like im- 
prisoned bees, and couples that glided past in calm and 
conscious superiority. He alone stood apart, excluded 
from the happy throng, and he began to have a pathetic 
sense of injury. 

But the music stopped at last, and Ada, dismissing her 
partner, came toward him. 

“You don’t seem to be enjoying yourself, Mr. Tweddle,” 
she said maliciously. 

“Don’t I ?” he replied. “Well, so long as you are, it 
don’t matter. Miss Parkinson — it don’t matter.” 

“ But I’m not — at least, I didn’t that dance,” she said ; 
“ that soldier man did talk rubbish, and he trod on my 
feet twice. I’m so hot ! I wonder if it’s cooler outside ? ” 

“Will you come and see ? ” he suggested, and this time 
she did not disdain his arm, and they strolled out together. 

Following a path they had hitherto left explored, they 
came to a little enclosure surrounded by tall shrubs ; in 
the centre, upon a low pedestal, stood a female statue, 
upon which a gas lamp some paces off cast a flickering 
gleam athwart the foliage. 

The exceptional grace and beauty of the figure would 
have been apparent to any lover of art. She stood there, 
her right arm raised, partly in gracious invitation, partly 
in queenly command, her left hand extended, palm down- 
ward, as if to be reverentially saluted. The hair was 
parted in boldly indicated waves over the broad, low brow, 
and confined by a fillet in a large, loose knot at the back. 
She was clad in a long chiton, which lapped in soft zig-zag 
folds over the girdle and fell to the feet in straight parallel 
lines, and a chlamys hanging from her shoulders concealed 
the left arm to the elbow, while it left the right arm free. 

In the uncertain light one could easily fancy soft eyes 
swimming in those wide blank sockets, and the ripe lips 
were curved by a dreamy smile at once tender and dis- 
dainful. 


i6 


THE TEVl'ED i^E,VUS. 


Leander Tweddle and Miss Ada Parkinson, however, 
stood before the statue in an unmoved, not to say critical 
mood. 

“ Who’s she supposed to be, I wonder ? ” asked the young- 
lady, rather as if the sculptor were a harmless lunatic 
whose delusions took a marble shape occasionally. This, 
by the way, is a question which -may frequently be heard 
in picture galleries, and implies an enlightened tolerance. 

“1 don’t know,” said Leander; “a foreign female, 1 
fancy — that’s Russian on the pedestal.” He inferred this 
from a resemblance to the characters on certain packets 
of cigarettes. 

“ But there’s some English underneath,” said Ada; “I 
can just make it out. Ap — Apro — Aprodyte. What a 
funny name ! ” 

“You haven’t prenounced it quite correckly,” he said ; 
“ out there they sound the ph like a f, and give all the 
syllables — Afroddity.” He felt a kind of intuition that 
this was nearer tlie correct rendering. 

“Well,” observed Ada, “she’s got a silly look, don’t you 
think ? ” 

Leander was less narrow, and gave it as his opinion that 
she had been “done from a fine woman.” Ada remarked 
that she herself would never consent to be taken in so un- 
becoming a costume. “ One might as well have no figure 
at all in things hanging down for all the world like a sack,” 
she said. 

Proceeding to details, she was struck by the smallness of 
the hands ; and it must be admitted that, although the 
statue as a whole was slightly above the average female 
height, the arms from the elbow downward, and particu- 
larly the hands, were by no means in proportion, and al- 
most justified Miss Parkinson’s objection that «“ no woman 
could have hands so small as that.” 

“ I know some one who has — quite as small,” said he 
softly. 

Ada instantly drew off one of the crimson gloves and 
held out her hand beside the statue’s. It was a well-shaped 
hand, as she very well knew, but it was decidedly larger 
than the one with which she compared it. “I said so,” 
she observed ; “ now are you satisfied, Mr. Tweddle ? ” 

But he had been thinking of a hand more slender and 
dainty than hers, and allowed himself to admit as much. 
“I — 1 wasn’t meaning you at all,” he said bluntly. 

She laughed a little jarring laugh. “ Oh, Matilda, of 


THE TINTED VENIS. 


17 


course! Nobody is like Matilda n -w i But come, Mr. 
Tweddle, you’re not going to stand thele nd tell me that 
this wonderful Matilda of yours has hands no bigger than 
those ? ” 

“ She has been endowed with quite remarkable small 
hands,” said he ; “you wouldn’t believe it without seeing. 
It so happens,” he added suddenly, “ that I can give you a 
very fair ideer of the size they are, for I’ve got a ring of 
hers in my pocket at this moment. It came about in this 
way : my aunt (the same that used to let her second lioor 
to James, and that Matilda lodges with at present), my 
aunt, as soon as she heard of our being engaged, nothing 
would do but I must give Matilda an old ring with a posy 
inside it, that was in our family, and we soon found the 
ring was too large to keep on, and I left it with old Vidler, 
near my place of business, to be niade tighter, arid called 
for it on my way here this very afternoon, and fortunately 
enough it was ready.” 

He took out the ring from its bed of pink cotton-wool, 
and offered it to Miss Parkinson. 

“You see if you can get it on,” he said; “try the little 
finger 1 ” 

She drew back, offended, “/don’t want to try it, thank 
you,” she said (she felt as if she might fling it into the 
bushes if she allowed herself to touch it). “If you must 
try it on somebody, there’s the statue I You’ll find no dif- 
ficulty in getting it on any of her fingers — or thumbs,” she 
added. 

“You shall see,” said Leander ; “ my belief is it’s too 
small for her, if anything.” 

He was a true lover, anxious to vindicate his lady’s per- 
fections before all the world, and perhaps to convince him- 
self that his estimate was not exaggerated. The proof 
was so easy, the statue’s left hand hung temptingly within 
his reach ; he accepted the challenge, and slipped the ring 
up the third finger, that was slightly raised as if to receive 
it. The hand struck no chill, so moist and mild was the 
evening, but felt warm and almost soft in his grasp. 

“There,” he said, triumphantly, “it might have been 
made for her ! 

“Well,” said Ada, not too consistently, “ I never said it 
mightn’t 1 ” 

“Excuse me,” said he, “but you said it would be too 
large for her ■ ?ind, if you’ll believe me, it’s as much as I 
can do to get it off her finger, it fits that close.” 


2 


i8 


TINTED VENUS. 


“Well, make and get it off, Mr. Tweddle, do,” said 

Ada, impatient ; • ’ve stayed out quite long enough.” 

“ In one momc 't,” he replied ; “ it’s quite a job, I declare, 
quite a job ! ” 

“ Oh, you men are so clumsy ! ” cried Ada, “ let 7ne try.” 

“No, no!” he said, rather irritably, “I can manage it,” 
and he continued to fumble. 

At last he looked over his shoulder and said, “ It’s a 
singler succumstance, but I can’t get the ring past the bend 
in the finger.” 

Ada was cruel enough to burst out laughing. “ It’s a 
judgment upon you, Mr. Tweddle,” she cried. 

“You dared me to do it,” he retorted ; “it isn’t friendly 
of you, I must say. Miss Parkinson, to set there enjoying 
of it — it’s bad taste ! ” 

“Well, then. I’m very sorry, Mr. Tweddle ; I won’t laugh 
any more ; but for goodness’ sake take me back to the 
Hall now.” 

“ It’s coming ! ” he said ; “ I’m working it over the joint 
now ; it’s coming quite easily.” 

“ But I can’t wait here while it comes,” she said ; “ do 
you want me to go back alone ? You’re not very polite to 
me this evening, I must say.” 

“ What am I to do ? ” he said distractedly ; “ this ring is 
my engagement ring ; it’s valuable. I can’t go away 
without it !” 

“The statue. won’t run away. You can come back again 
by-and-by. You don’t expect me to spend the rest of the 
evening out here ? I never thought you could be rude to 
a lady, Mr. Tw*eddle.” 

“No more I can,” he said. “Your wishes, Miss Ada, 
are equivocal to commands ; allow me the honor of recon- 
ducting you to the Baronial Hall.” 

He offered his arm in his best manner ; she took it, and 
together they passed out of the enclosure, leaving the 
statue in undisturbed possession of the ring. 


THE TINTED VENUS, 


^9 


CHAPTER II. 

PLEASURE IN PURSUIT. 

“And you, great sculptor, so you gave 
A score of years to Art, her slave. 

And that’s your Venus, whence we turn 
To yonder girl.” 

Another waltz had just begun as they re-entered the 
Baronial Hall, and Ada glanced up at her companion from 
her daring brown eyes. “What would you say if I told 
you you might have this dance with me ? ” she inquired. 

The hairdresser hesitated for just one moment. He had 
meant to leave her there and go back for his ring ; but the 
waltz they were playing was a very enticing one. Ada was 
looking uncommonly pretty just then ; he could get the 
ring equally well a few minutes later. “ I should take it 
very kind of you,” he said, gratefully, at length. “Ask 
for it then,” said Ada ; and he did ask for it. 

He forgot Matilda and his engagement for the moment ; 
he sacrificed all his scruples about dancing in public ; but 
he somehow failed to enjoy this pleasure, illicit though it 
was. 

For one thing, he could not long keep Matilda out of 
his thoughts. He was doing nothing positively wrong ; 
still, it was undeniable that she would not approve of his 
being there at all, still less if she knew that the gold ring 
given to him by his aunt for the purposes of his betrothal 
had been left on the finger of a foreign statue, and exposed 
to the mercy of any passer-by, while he waltzed with a 
bonnetmaker’s assistant. 

And his conscience was awakened still further by the 
discovery that Ada was a somewhat disappointing partner. 
“ She’s not so light as she used to be,” he thought, “ and 
then she jumps. I’d forgotten she jumped.” 

Before the waltz was nearly over he led her back to a 
chair, alleging as his excuse that he was afraid to abandon 
his ring any longer, and hastened away to the spot where 
it was to be found. 

He went along the same path, and soon came to an en- 
closure ; but no sooner had he entered it than he saw that 
he must have mistaken his way ; this was not the right 
place: there was no statue in the middle. 


20 


I 

7^HE TINTED FENDS. 

He was about to turn away, when* he saw something that 
made him start ; it was a low pedestal in the centre, with 
the same characters upon it that he had read with Ada. It 
was the place, after all; yes, he could not be mistaken ; he 
knew it now. 

Where was the statue which had so lately occupied that 
pedestal? Had it fallen among the bushes ? He felt about 
for it in vain ; it must have been removed for some pur- 
pose while he had been dancing, but by whom, and why ? 

The best way to find out would be to ask some one in 
authority. The manager was in the Baronial Hall, officiat- 
ing as M. C.; he would go and inquire whether the re- 
moval had been by his orders. 

He was fortunate enough to catch him as he was corn- 
ing out of the hall, and he seized him by the arm with ner- 
vous haste. “Mister,” he began, “if you’ve found one of 
your plaster figures with a gold ring on, it’s mine. I — I 
put it on in a joking kind of way, and I had to leave it for 
a while ; and now, when I come back for it, it’s gone.” 

“I’m sorry to hear it, sir,” returned the manager ; “but 
really, if you will leave gold rings on our statues, we can’t 
be responsible, you know. ’ 

“ But you will excuse me,” pursued Leander ; “ I don’t 
think you quite understood me. It isn’t only the ring 
that’s gone — it’s the statue ; and if you’ve had it put up % 
anywhere else ” 

“Nonsense,” said the manager; “we don’t move our 
statues about like chessmen ; you have forgotten where 
you left it, that’s all. What was the statue like ? ” 

Leander described it as well as he could, and the mana- 
ger, with a somewhat altered manner, made him point out 
the spot where he believed it to have stood, and they en- 
tered the grove together. 

The man gave one rapid glance at the vacant pedestal, 
and then gripped Leander by the shoulder, and looked at 
him long and hard by the feeble light. “Answer me,” he 
said, roughly ; “ is this some lark of yours ?” 

“I look larky, don’t I ?” said poor Tweddle, dolefullv. 

“ I thought you would be sure to know where it was.” 

“ I wish to heaven I did ! ” cried the manager, passion- 
ately ; “ it’s those impudent blackguards. They’ve done 
it under my very nose ! ” 

“ If it’s any of your men,” suggested Leander, “can you 
make tliem put it back again ? ” 

“ It’s not any of my men. I was warned, and, like a fool. 


THE 'FI NEED VENCS. 


21 


I wouldn’t believe it could be done at a time like this ; and 
now it’s too late, and what am I to say to the inspector ? I 
wouldn’t have had this happen for a thousand pounds!” 

“Well, it’s kind of you to feel so put out about it,” said 
Leander. “You sec, what makes the ring so valuable to 
me ” 

Tlie manager was pacing up and down impatiently, en- 
tirely ignoring his presence. “ I say,” Tweddle repeated, 
“the reason why that ring’s of partickler importance ” 

“Oh, don’t bother me !" said the other, shaking him off. 
“ I don’t want to be uncivil, but I’ve got to think this out. 
Infernal rascals ! ” he went on muttering. 

“ Have the goodness to hear what I’ve got to say, 
though,” persisted Leander. “I’m mixed up in this, 
whether you like it or not ; you seem to know who’s got 
this figure, and I’ve a right to be told too. I won’t go till 
I get that ring back ; so now you understand me.” 

“Confound you and your ring!” said tlic manager. 
“What’s the good of coming bully-ragging me about your 
ring? /can’t get your ring! You shouldn’t have been 
fool enough to put it on one of our statues. You make me 
talk to you like this, coming bothering when I’ve enough on 
my mind as it is ! Hang it ! Can’t you see I’m as anxious 
to get that statue again as ever as you can be ? If 1 don’t 
get it, I may be a ruined man, for all I know ; ain’t that 
enough for you ? Look here, take my advice, and leave 
me alone before we have words over this. You give me 
your name and address, and you may rely on hearing from 
me as soon as anything turns up. You can do no good to 
yourself or anyone else by making a row ; so go away 
quiet like a sensible chap ! ” 

Leander felt stunned by the blow ; evidently there was 
nothing to be done but follow the manager’s advice. He 
went to the office with him, and gave his name and address 
in full, and then turned back alone to the dancing-hall. 

He had lost his ring — no ordinary trinket which he could 
purchase anywhere, but one for which he would have to 
account — and to whom ? To his aunt and Matilda. How 
could he tell when there was even a chance of seeing it 
again ? 

If only he had not allowed himself that waltz ; if only he 
had insisted upon remaining by the statue until his ring 
was removed ; if only he had not been such an idiot as to 
put it on ! None of these acts were wrong exactly ; but 
between them they had brought him to this. 


22 


THE TINTED VENUS. 


And the chief person responsible was Miss Ada Parkin- 
son, whom he dared not reproach ; for he was naturally 
unwilling that this last stage of the affair should become 
known. He would have to dissemble, and he rejoined his 
party with what he intended for a jaunty air. 

“We’ve been waiting for you to go away,” said Bella. 
“ Where have you been all this time ? ” 

He saw with relief that Ada did not appear to have men- 
tioned the statue, and so he said he had been “ strolling 
about.” And Ada left to take care of herself ! ” said 
Bella, spitefully. “You are polite, Mr. Tweddle, I must 
say ! ” 

“ I haven’t complained, Bella, that I know of,” said Ada. 
“And Mr. Tweddle and I quite understand each other, 
don’t we ? ” 

“Oh !” said Bella, with an altered manner and a side- 
glance at James, “I didn’t know. I’m very glad to hear 
it. I’m sure.” 

And then they left the gardens, and, after a substantial 
meal at a riverside hotel, started on the homeward journey, 
with the sense that their expedition had not been precisely 
a success. 

As before, they had a railway compartment to themselves. 
Bella declined to talk, and lay back in her corner with 
closed eyes and an expression of undeserved suffering, while 
the unfortunate Jauncy sat silent and miserable opposite. 

Leander would have liked to be silent too, and think out 
his position ; but Ada would not hear of this. Her jealous 
resentment had apparently vanished, and she was extremely 
lively and playful in her sallies. 

This reached a pitch when she bent forward, and, in a 
whisper which she did not perhaps intend to be quite con- 
fidential, said, “ Oh, Mr. Tweddle, you never told me what 
became of the ring ! Is it off at last ? ” 

“ Off •? yes ! ” he said, irritably, very nearly adding, “ and 
the statue too.” 

“ Weren’t you very glad ? ” said she. 

“ Uncommonly,” he replied, grimly. 

“Let me see it again, now you’ve got it back,” she 
pleaded. 

“ You’ll excuse me,” he said ; “ but after what has taken 
place, I can’t show that ring to anybody.” 

“ Then you’re a cross thing ! ” said Ada, pouting. 

“ What’s the matter with you two over there ? ” asked 
Bella, sleepily. 


THE TINTED VENUS. 


23 


Ada’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “ Let me tell them ; 
it is too awfully funny. I must ! ” she whispered to Lean- 
der. “ It’s all about a ring,” she began, and enjoyed poor 
Tweddle’s evident discomfort. 

“ A ring ? ” cried Bella, waking up. “ Don’t keep all the 
fun to yourselves ; we’ve not had so much of it this even- 
ing.” ^ 

“ Miss Ada,” said Leander, in great agitation, I ask 
you, as a lady, to treat what has happened this evening in 
the strictest confidence for the present ! ” 

“ Secrets, Ada ? ” cried her sister ; “ upon my word ! ” 

“Why, where’s the harm, Mr. Tweddle, now it’s all set- 
tled ?” exclaimed Ada. “ Bella, it was only this : he went 
and put a ring (now do wait till I’ve done, Mr. Tweddle !) 
on a certain person’s finger out in those Rosherwich Gar- 
dens (you see. I’ve not said whose finger).” 

“ Hello, Tweddle ! ” cried Jauncy, in some bewilderment. 
Leander could only cast a look of miserable appeal at 
him. 

“ Shall I tell them any more, Mr. Tweddle ?” said Ada, 
persistently. 

I don’t think there’s any necessity,” he pleaded. 

“No more do I,” put in Bella, archly. “ I think we can 
guess the rest.” 

Ada did not absolutely make any further disclosures 
that evening ; but for the rest of the journey she amused 
herself by keeping the hairdresser in perpetual torment 
by her pretended revelations, until he was thoroughly dis- 
gusted. 

No longer could he admire her liveliness ; he could not 
even see that she was good-looking now. “She’s nothing 
but chafi;, chaff, chaff!” he thought. “Thank goodness, 
Matilda isn’t given that way ; chaff before marriage means 
nagging after ! ” 

They reached the terminus at last, when he willingly 
said farewell to the other three. “ Good-bye, Mr. Tweddle,” 
said Bella, in rather a more cordial tone ; “ I needn’t hope 
you'vQ enjoyed yourself ! ” 

“You needn’t ! ” he replied, almost savagely. 

“ Good-night,” said Ada, and added in a whisper, “ Don’t 
go and dream of your statue-woman !” 

• “ If I dream to-night at all,” he said, between his teeth, 
“ it will be a nightmare ! ” 

“I suppose, Tweddle, old chap,” said Jauncy, as he 
shook hands, “you know your own affairs best ; but if you 


24 


7' HE TINTED VENUS. 


meant what you told me coming down, you’ve been doing 
it, haven’t you ?” 

He left Leander wondering impatiently what he meant. 
Did he know the truth ? Well, everybody might know it 
before long ; there would probably be a fuss about it all, 
and the best thing he could do would be to tell Matilda at 
once, and throw himself upon her mercy. After all, it 
was innocent enough — if she could only be brought to be- 
lieve it. 

He did not look forward to telling her ; and by the time 
he reached tlie Bank and got into an omnibus, he was in a 
highly nervous state, as the following incident may serve 
to show. 

He had taken one of those uncomfortable private omni- 
buses, where the passengers are left in unlightened gloom. 
He sat by the door, and occupied as he was by his own 
misfortunes, paid little attention to his surroundings. 

But by and by he became aware that the conductor, in 
collecting the fares, was trying to attract the notice of 
some one who sat in the further corner of the vehicle. 
“ Where are you for, lady, please ? ” he asked repeatedly, 
and at last, “ Will somebody ask the lady up the end 
where I am to set her down ?” to all of wliich the eccentric 
person addressed returned no reply whatever. 

Leander’s attention was thus directed to her ; but al- 
though in the obscurity he could make out nothing but a 
dim form in gray, his nerves were so unsettled that he felt 
a curiously uneasy fancy that eyes were being fixed upon 
him in the darkness. 

This continued until a moment when some electric lights 
suddenly flashed into tlie omnibus as it passed, and lit up 
the whole interior with a ghastly glare, in which the gray 
female became distinctly visible. 

He caught his breath and shrank into the corner, for in 
that moment his excited imagination had traced a strange 
resemblance to the figure he had left in Rosherwich Gar- 
dens. The inherent improbability of finding a classical 
statue seated in an omnibus did not occur to him in the 
state his mind was in just then. Fie sat there fascinated, 
until lights shot in once more, and he saw, or thought he 
saw, the figure slowly raise her hand and beckon to him. 

That was enough ; he started up with a smothered cry, 
thrust a coin into the conductor’s hand, and without wait- 
ing for change, flung himself from the omnibus in full 
motion. 


THE TINTED VENUS. 


25 


When its varnished sides had ceased to gleam in the 
light of the lamps, and its lumbering form had been swal- 
lowed up in the autumn haze, he "began to feel what a 
coward his imagination had made of him. 

My nightmare’s begun already,” he thought ; “ still she 
was so surprisingly like, it did give me a turn. They 
oughtn’t to let such crazy females into public convey- 
ances ! ” 

Fortunately his panic had not seized him until he was 
within a short distance of Bloomsbury, and it did not take 
him long to reach Queen Square, andjiis shop in the pas- 
sage. He let himself in, and went up to a little room on 
an upper floor, which he used as his sitting-room. The 
person who “ looked after him ” did not sleep on the prem- 
ises ; but she had laid a fire and left out his tea-things. 
“ I’ll have some tea,” he thought, as he lit the gas and saw 
them there. “ I feel as if I want cheering up, and it can’t 
make me any more shaky than I am.” 

And when his fire was crackling and blazing up, and his 
kettle beginning to sing, he felt more cheerful already. 
What, after all, if it did take some time to get his ring 
again ? He must make some excuse or other ; and, should 
the worst come to the worst, “ I suppose,” he thought, 
“ I could get another made like it — though, when I come 
to think of it. I’ll be shot if I remember exactly what it 
was like, or what the words inside it were, to be sure about 
them ; still, very likely old Vidler would recollect, and I 
dessay it won’t turn out to be necessa — What the devil’s 
that ? ” 

He had the house to himself after nightfall, and he 
remembered that his private door could not be opened now 
without a special key, and_yet he could not help a fancy 
that some one was groping his way up the staircase outside. 

“It’s only the boards creaking, or the pipes leaking 
through,” he thought. “ I must have the place done up. 
But I’m as nervous as a cat to-night.” 

The steps were nearer and nearer — they stopped at the 
door — there was a loud commanding blow on the panels. 

“Who’s here at this time of night?” cried Leander, 
aloud. “ Come in, if you want to ! ” 

But the door remained shut, and there came another rap, 
even more imperious. 

“ I shall go mad if this goes on ! ” he muttered, and 
making a desperate rush to the door, threw it wide open, 
and then staggered back panic-stricken. 


26 


THE TINTED VENDS. 


Upon the threshold stood a tali figure in classical drap- 
ery ; his eyes might have deceived him in the omnibus ; 
but here, in the crude gaslight, he could not be mistaken. 
It was the statue he had last seen in Rosherwich Gardens 
— now, in some strange and wondrous way, moving — alive ! 


CHAPTER III. 

A DISTINGUISHED STRANGER. 

“ How could it be a dream ? Vet there 
She stood, the moveless image fair!” 

The Earthly Paradise. 

With slow and stately tread the statue advanced toward 
the centre of the hairdresser’s humble sitting-room, and 
stood there awhile, gazing about her with something of 
scornful wonder in her calm, cold face. As she turned her 
head, the wide, deeply-cut sockets seemed the home of 
shadowy eyes ; her face, her bared arms, and the long 
straight folds of her robe were all of the same greyish- 
yellow hue ; the boards creaked under her sandalled feet, 
and Leander felt that he had ’never heard of a more appall- 
ingly massive ghost — if ghost indeed she were. 

He had retired step by step before her to the hearth- 
rug, where he now stood shivering, with the fire hot at his 
back, and his kettle still singing on undismayed. He made 
no attempt to account for her presence there on any 
rationalizing theory. A statue had suddenly come to life, 
and chosen to pay him a nocturnal visit ; he knew no more 
than that, except that he would have given worlds for 
courage to show it the door. 

The spectral eyes were bent upon him, as if in expecta- 
tion that he would begin the conversation, and at last, 
with a very unmanageable tongue, he managed to observe. 

Did you want to see me on — on business, mum ?” But 
the statue only relaxed her lips in a haughty smile. 

‘‘For goodness’ sake, say something!” he cried wildly, 
“ unless you want me to jump out of winder ! What is it 
you’ve come about ? ” 

It seemed to him that in some way a veil had lifted from 
the stone face, leaving it illumined by a strange light, and 
from the lips came a voice which addressed him in solemn, 


THE TINTED FENDS, 


27 


far-away tones as of one talking in sleep. He could not 
have said with certainty that the language was his own, 
though somehow he understood her perfectly. 

“You know me not?” she said, with a kind of sad in- 
difference. 

“ Well,” Leauder admitted, as politely as his terror would 
allow, “ you certingly have the advantage of me for the 
moment, mum.” 

“ I am Aphrodite the foam-born, the matchless seed of 
.^gis-bearing Zeus. Many names have I among the sons 
of men, and many temples, and I sway the hearts of all 
lovers ; and gods — yea, and mortals — have burned for me, 
a goddess, with an unconsuming, unquenchable fire ! ” 

“ Lor ! ” said Leander. If he had not been so much 
flurried, he might have found a remark worthier of the oc- 
casion, but the announcement that she was a goddess took 
his breath away : he had quite believed that goddesses were 
long since “gone out.” 

“ You know wherefore. I am come hither ?” she said. 

“Not at this minute I don’t,” he replied. “You’ll ex- 
cuse me, but you can’t be the statue out of those gardens ? 
You really are so surprisingly like, that I couldn’t help 
asking you.” 

“I am Aphrodite, and no statue. Long — how long I 
know not — have I lain entranced in slumber in my seagirt 
isle of Cyprus, and now again has the living touch of a 
mortal hand upon one of my sacred images called me from 
my rest and given me power to animate this marble shell. 
Some hand has placed this ring upon my finger : tell me, 
was it yours ?” 

Leander was almost reassured ; after all, he could for- 
give her for terrifying him so much, since she had come 
on so good-natured an errand. 

“ Quite correct, mum — miss ! ” (he wished he knew the 
proper form for addressing a goddess). “That ring is my 
property. I’m sure its very civil and friendly of you to 
come all this way about it,” and he held out his hand for 
it eagerly. 

“ And think you it was for this that I have visited the 
face of the earth and the haunts of men, and followed your 
footsteps hither by roads strange and unknown to me ? 
You are too modest, youth.” 

“ I don’t know what there is modest in expecting you to 
behave honest ! ” he said, rather wondering at his own au- 
dacity. 


28 


THE TINTED VENUS. 


“ How are you called ?” she inquired suddenly on this ; 
and after hearing the answer, remarked that the name was 
known to her as that of a goodly and noble youth who had 
perished for the sake of Hero. 

“The gentleman may have been a connection of mine, 
for all I know,” he said ; “ the Tweddles have always kep’ 
themselves respectable. But Tm not a hero myself. I’m a 
hairdresser.” 

She repeated the word thoughtfully, though she did not 
seem to quite comprehend it ; and indeed it is likely enough 
that, however intelligible she was to Leander, the under- 
standing was far from being entirely reciprocal. 

She extended her hand to him, smiling not ungraciously. 
“Leander,” she said, “ cease to tremble, for a great happi- 
ness is yours. Bold have you been ; yet am 1 not angered, 
for I come. Cast then away all fear, and know that Aphro- 
dite disdains not to accept a mortal’s plighted troth ! ” 

Leander entrenched himself promptly behind the arm- 
chair. “ I don’t know what you’re talking about ! ” he 
said. “ Flow can I help fearing, with you coming down 
on me like this ? Ask yourself.” 

“Can you not understand that your prayer is heard?” 
she demanded. 

“ What prayer ? ” cried Leander. 

“ Crass and gross-witted has the world grown ! ” said 
she ; “ a Greek swain would have needed but few words to 
divine his bliss. Know then that your suit is accepted ; 
never yet has Aphrodite turned the humblest from her 
shrine. By this symbol,” and she lightly touched the ring, 
“you have given yourself to me. I accept the offering — 
you are mine ! ” 

Leander was stupefied by such an unlooked-for miscon- 
ception. Fie could scarcely believe his ears ; but he hast- 
ened to set himself right at once. 

“ If you mean that you were under the impression that 
I meant anything in particular by putting that ring on, it 
was all a mistake, mum,” he said ; “ I shouldn’t have pre- 
sumed to it ! ” 

“ Were you the lowliest of men, I care not,” she replied ; 
“ to you I owe the power I now enjoy of life and vision, 
nor shall you find me Tingrateful. But forbear this false 
humility ; I like it not. Come, then, Leander, at the bid- 
ding of Cypris ; come, and fear nothing !” 

But he feared veiy much, for he had seen the operas of 
Don Giovanni and Zanipa, and knew that any familiarity 


THE TINTED FENDS. 


29 


with statuary was likely to have unpleasant consequences. 
He merely strengthened his defences with a chair. 

“You must excuse me, mum, you must indeed,” he fal- 
tered ; “ I can’t come ! ” 

“ Why ? ” she asked. 

“ Because I’ve other engagements,” he replied. 

I remember,” she said, slowly, “ in the grove, when 
light met my eyes once more, there was a maid with you, 
one who laughed and was merry. Answer — is she your 
love ? ” 

“ No, she isn’t,” he said, shortly. “ What if she was ? ” 

“ If she were,” observed the goddess, with the air of one 
who mentioned an ordinary fact, “ I should crush her ! ” 

“ Lord bless me ! ” cried Leander in his horror, “ what 
for ? ” 

“ Would not she be in my path ? and shall any mortal 
maid stand between me and my desire ?” 

This was a discovery. She was a jealous and vengeful 
goddess ; she would require to be sedulously humored, or 
harm would come. 

“Well, well,” he said, soothingly, “there’s nothing of 
that sort about her, I do assure you.” 

“ Then I spare her,” said the goddess. “ But how, then, 
if this be truly so, do you still shrink from tlie honor be- 
fore you ? ” 

Leander felt a natural unwillingness to explain that it 
was because he was engaged to a young lady who kept the 
accounts at a florist’s. 

“Well, the fact is,” he said, awkwardly, “there’s diffi- 
culties in the way.” 

“ Difficulties ? I can remove them all ! ’ she said. 

“ Not these you can’t, mum. It’s like this : You and me, 
we don’t start, so to speak, from the same basin. I don’t 
mean it as any reproach to you, but you can’t deny you’re 
an Eathen, and, worse than that, an Eathen goddess. Now 
all my family have been brought up as chapel folk, Primi- 
tive Methodists, and I’ve been trained to have a horror of 
superstition and idolatries, and see the folly of it. So you 
can see for yourself that we shouldn’t be likely to get on 
together ! ” 

“You talk words,” she said, impatiently; “but empty 
are they, and meaningless to my ears. One thing I learn 
from them — that you seek to escape me!” 

“ That’s putting it too harsh, mum,” he protested. “ I’m 
sure I feel the honor of such a call ; and, by the way, do 


30 


THE TTVTED VENUS. 


you mind telling me how you got my address — how you 
found me out, I mean ?” 

‘‘ No one remains long hid from the searching eye of the 
high gods,” she replied. 

“ So I should be inclined to say,” agreed Leander. “But 
only tell me this, wasn’t it you in the omnibus ? We call 
our public conveyances omnibuses, as perhaps you mayn’t 
know.” 

“ I, sea-born Aphrodite, / in a public conveyance, an 
omnibus ? There is an impiety in such a question ! ” 

“Well, I only thought it might have been,” he stam- 
mered, rather relieved upon the whole that it was not the 
goddess who had seen his precipitate bolt from the vehicle. 
Who the female in the corner really was, he never knew, 
though a man of science might account for the resemblance 
she bore to the statue by ascribing it to one of those pre- 
paratory impressions projected occasionally by a strong 
personality upon a weak one. But Leander was content 
to leave the matter unexplained. 

“Let it suffice you,” she said, “that I am here; and 
once more, Leander, are you prepared to fulfil the troth 
3^011 have plighted ? ” 

“ I — I can’t sa}^ I am,” he said. “Not that I don’t feel 
thankful for having had the refusal of so ver}' ’igh-class an 
opportunit}^ ; but, as I’m situated at present — what with 
the state of trade, and unbelief so rampant, and all — I’m 
obliged to decline with respectful thanks.” 

He trusted that after this she would see the propriet}' of 
going. 

“Have a care,” she said ; “3"ou are 3'oung and not un- 
comel}^, and m\’- heart pities 3mu. Do nothing rash. Pause, 
ere }''ou rouse the implacable ire of Aphrodite ! ” 

“ Thank you,” said Leander ; “if 3^ou’ll allow me, I will. 
I don’t want an}" ill-feeling. I’m sure. It’s my wish to live 
peaceable with all men.” 

“ I leave you, then. Use the time before }"ou till I come 
again in thinking well whether he acts wisel}" who spurns 
the proffered hand of Idalian Aphrodite. For the present, 
farewell, Leander ! ” 

He was overjoyed at his coming deliverance. “ Good- 
evening, mum,” he said, as he ran to the do,or and held it 
open; “ if you’ll allow me. I’ll light }"ou down the stair- 
case — it’s rather dark. I’m afraid.” 

‘‘'‘Fool!" she said with scorn, and without stirring from 
her place ; and, as she spoke the word, the veil seemed to 


THE TINTED VENUS. 31 

descend over her face again, the light faded out, and, 
with a slight shudder, the figure imperceptibly resumed 
its normal attitude, the drapery stiffened into chiselled 
folds again, and the statue was soulless as are statues gen- 
erally. 


CHAPTER IV. 

FROM BAD TO WORSE. 

“ And the shadow flits and fleets, 

And will not let me be, 

And I loathe the squares and streets ! ” — Hand. 

For some time after the statue had ceased to give signs 
of life, the hairdresser remained gaping, incapable of 
thought or action. At last he ventured to approach cau- 
tiously, and on touching the figure, found it perfectly cold 
and hard. The animating principle had plainly departed 
and left the statue a stone. 

“ She’s gone,” he said, “ and left her statue behind 
her ! Well, of all the goes — She’s come without her 
pedestal, too ! To be sure, it would have been in her way, 
walking.” 

Seating himself in his shabby old arm-chair, he tried to 
collect his scattered wits. He scarcely realized, even yet, 
what had happened ; but, unless he had dreamed it all, he 
had been honored by the marked attentions of a marble 
statue, instigated by a heathen goddess, who insisted that 
his affections were pledged to her. 

Perhaps there was a spice of flattery in such a situation 
— for it cannot fall to the lot of many hairdressers to be 
thus distinguished — but Leander was far too much alarmed 
to appreciate it. There had been suggestions of menace 
in the statue’s remarks which made him shudder when he 
recalled them, and he started violently once or twice 
when some wavering of the light gave a play of life to the 
marble mask. “ She’s coming back,” he thought. “Oh, 
Ido wish she wouldn’t ! ” But Aphrodite continued im- 
movable, and at last he concluded that, as he put it, she 
“had done for the evening.” 

His first reflection was — what had best be done ? The 
wisest course seemed to be to send for the manager of the 


32 


THE TINTED FENDS. 


gardens, and restore the statue while its animation was 
suspended. The people at the gardens would take care 
that it did not get loose again. 

But there was the ring, he must get that off first ; here 
was an unhoped-for opportunity of accomplishing this in 
privacy, and at his leisure. Again approaching the figure, 
he tried to draw off the compromising circle, but it seemed 
tighter than ever, and he drew out a pair of scissors, and, 
after a little hesitation, respectfully inserted it under the 
hoop and set to work to pry it off, with the result of 
snapping both the points, while leaving the ring entirely 
unaffected. He glanced at the face ; it wore the same 
dreamy smile, with a touch of gentle contempt in it. “ She 
don’t seem to mind,” he said aloud ; “to be sure, she ain’t 
inside of it now, as far as I make it out. I’ve got all night 
before me to get the confounded thing off, and I’ll go on 
till I’ve done it ! ” 

But he labored on with the disabled scissors, and only 
succeeded in scratching the smooth marble a little he 
stopped to pant. “There’s only one way,” he told hirnself, 
desperately; “a little diamond cement would make it all 
right again ; and you expect cracks in a statue.” 

Then, after a furtive glance around, he fetched the poker 
from the fireplace. He felt horribly brutal, as if he were 
going to mutilate and maltreat a creature that could feel ; 
but he nerved himself to tap the back of Aphrodite’s hand 
at the dimpled base of the third finger. The shock ran up 
to his elbow, and gave him acute “pins and needles,” but 
the stone hand was still intact. He struck again — this time 
with all his force — and the poker flew from his grasp, and 
his arm dropped paralyzed by his side. 

He could scarcely lift it again for some minutes, and the 
warning made him refrain from any further violence. “It’s 
no good,” he groaned ; “if I go on, I don’t know what 
mayn’t happen to me. I must wait till she comes to, and 
then ask her for the ring, very polite and civil, and tr}" if 
I can’t get round her that way.” 

He was determined that he would never give her up 
to the gardens while she wore his ring ; but, in the mean- 
time, he could scarcely leave the statue standing in the 
middle of his sitting-room, where it would most assuredly 
attract the char-woman’s attention. 

He had little cupboards on each side of his fireplace : 
one of these had no shelves, and served for storing fire- 
wood and bottles of 'various kinds ; after removing the 


THE TINTED VENDS. 


33 


contents from this, he lifted the statue, pushed it well in, 
and turned the key on it. 

Then he went trembling to bed, and after an interval 
of muddled, anxious thinking, fell into a heavy sleep, which 
lasted until far into the morning. 

He woke with the recollection that something unpleas- 
ant was hanging over him, and by degrees he remem- 
bered what that something was ; but it looked so extrav- 
agant in the morning light that he had great hopes all 
would turn out to be a mere dream. 

It was a mild Sunday morning, and there were rlTnrehi 
bells ringing all around him ; it seemed impossible Uiat 
he could really be harboring an animated antique. But 
to remove all doubt, he stole down, half dressed; to his 
small sitting-room, which he found looking as usual — the 
fire burning dull and dusty in the sunlight, that struck in 
through the open window, and his breakfast laid out on 
the table. 

Almost reassured, he went to the cupboard and unlocked 
the door. Alas ! it held its skeleton — the statue was there 
preserving the attitude of queenly command in which he 
had seen it first. Sharply he shut the door again, and 
turned the key with a heavy heart. 

He swallowed his breakfast with very little appetite, 
after which he felt he could not remain in the house. ‘‘ To 
sit here with that in the cupboard is more than Tm equal 
to all Sunday,” he decided. 

If Matilda had been at his aunt’s, with whom she lodged, 
he would have gone to chapel with her ; but Matilda did 
not return from her holiday till late that night. He 
thought of going to his friend and asking his advice on 
his case. James, as a barrister’s clerk, would presumably 
be able to give a sound legal opinion on an emergency. 

James, however, lived “out Camden Town way,” and 
was certain on so fine a morning to be away on some Sun- 
day expedition with his betrothed : it was hopeless to go 
in search of him now. If he went to see his aunt, who 
lived close by in Millman Street, she might ask him about 
the ring, and there would be a fuss. He was in no 
liumor for attending any place of public worship, and so 
he spent some hours in aimless wandering about the streets, 
which, as foreigners are fond of reminding us, are not 
exhilarating even on the brightest Sabbath, and did not 
raise his spirits then. 

At last hunger drove him back to the passage in South- 
3 


34 


THE TINTED VENDS. 


ampton Row, the more quickly as it began to occur to him 
that the statue might possibly have revived, and be creat- 
ing a disturbance in the cupboard. 

He had passed the narrow posts, and was just taking 
out his latch-key, when some one behind touched his shoul- 
der and made him give a guilty jump. He dreaded to 
find the goddess at his elbow ; however, to his relief, he 
found a male stranger, plainly and respectably dressed. 

“You Mr. Tweddle the hairdresser?” the stranger in- 
quired. 

Leander felt a wild impulse to deny it, and declare that 
he was his own friend and had come to see himself on 
business, for he was in no social mood just then ; but he 
ended by admitting that he supposed he was Mr. Tweddle. 

“ So did I. Well, I want a little private talk with you, 
Mr. Tweddle. I’ve been hanging about for some time ; 
but though I knocked and rang, I couldn’t make a soul 
hear.” 

“There isn’t a soul inside,” protested Tweddle, with 
unnecessary warmth ; “ not a solitary soul ! You wanted 
to talk with me. Suppose we take a turn round the 
Square ? ” 

“ No, no ; I won’t keep you out — I’ll come in with you !” 

Inwardly wondering what his visitor wanted, Leader led 
him in and lit the gas in his hair-cutting saloon. “ We 
shalhbe cosier here,” he said ; for he dared not take the 
stranger up in the room where the statue was concealed, 
for fear of accidents. 

The man sat down in the operating-chair and crossed 
his legs. “ I daresay you’re wondering what I’ve come 
about like this on a Sunday afternoon ? ” he began. 

“ Not at all,” said Leander ; “anything I can have the 
pleasure of doing for you ” 

“ It’s only to answer a few questions. I understand you 
lost a ring at the Rosherwich Gardens yesterday evening : 
that’s so, isn’t it ? ” 

He was a military-looking person, as Leander now per- 
ceived, and he had a close-trimmed iron-gray beard, a high 
color, quick eyes, and a stiff, hard-lipped mouth — not at 
all the kind of man to trifle with. And yet Leander felt 
no inclination to tell him his story ; the stranger might be 
a reporter, and his adventure would “ get into the papers ” 
— perhaps reach Matilda’s eyes. 

“ I — I dropped a ring last night, certingly,” he said ; “ it 
may have been in the gardens, for what I know.” 


THE TINTED VENDS. 


35 


“ Now, now,” said the stranger, “ don’t you kno7c> it was 
in the gardens ? Tell me all about it.” 

“ Begging your pardon,/’ said Leander,, “ I should like 
to know first what call you have to told.” 

“You’re quite right— perfectly right. I always deal 
straightforwardly when I can. I’ll tell )^ou who I am. I’m 
Inspector Bilbow of the Criminal Investigation Depart- 
ment, Scotland Yard. Now, perhaps, you’ll see I’m not a 
man to be kept in the dark. And I want you to tell me 
when and where you last saw that ring of yours ; it’s to 
your own interest, if you want to sec it again.” 

But Leander /m^ seen it again, and it seemed certain 
that all Scotland Yard could not assist him in getting it 
back ; he must manage it single-handed. 

“ It’s very kind of you, Mr. Inspector, to try and find it 
for me,” he said ; “ but the fact is, it — it ain’t so valuable 
as I fancied. I can’t afford to have it traced — it’s not 
worth it ! ” 

The inspector laughed. “ I never said it was, that I know. 
The job I’m in charge of is a bigger concern than your 
trumpery ring, my friend.” 

“ Tlien I don’t see what I’ve got to do with it,” said 
Leander. 

The officer had taken his measure by this time ; he must 
admit his man into a show of confidence, and appeal to 
his vanity, if he was to obtain any information he could 
rely upon. 

“ You’re a shrewd chap, I see ; ‘ nothing for nothing ’ ’s 
your motto, eh? Well, if you’ll help me in this, and put 
me on the track I want, it’ll be a fine thing for you. You’ll 
be a principal witness at the police-court ; name in the 
papers ; regular advertisement for you ! ” 

This prospect, had he known it, but even inspectors can- 
not know everything, was the last which could appeal to 
Leander in his peculiar position, “ I don’t care for noto- 
riety,” he said, loftily ; “ I scorn it.” 

Oho !” said the inspector, shifting his ground. “Well, 
you don’t want to impede the course of justice do you? 
because that’s what you seem to me to be after, and you 
won’t find it pay in the long run. I’ll get this out of you 
in a friendly way if I can ; if not, some other way. Come, 
give me your account, fair and full, of how you came to 
lose that ring ; there’s no help for it — you must ! ” 

Leander saw this and yielded. After all, it did not much 
matter, for of course he would not touch upon the strange 


THE 7'INTED VENUS. 


36 

sequel of his ill-omened act ; so he told the story faithfully 
and circumstantially, while the inspector took it all down 
in his note-book, questioning him closely respecting the 
exact time of each occurrence. 

At last he closed his note-book with a snap. Fm not 
obliged to tell you anything in return for all this,” he said ; 
‘‘but I will, and then you’ll see the importance of holding 
your tongue till I give you leave to talk about it.” 

“/shan’t talk about it,” said Leander. 

“ I don’t advise you to. I suppose you’ve heard of that 
affair at Wricklesmarsh Court ? What ! not that business 
where a gang broke into the sculpture gallery, one of 
the finest private collections in England? You surprise 
me ! ” 

“ And what did they steal ? ” asked Leander. 

“ They stole the figure whose finger you were ass enough 
(if you’ll allow me the little familiarity) to put your ring 
on. What do you think of that ? ” 

A wild rush of ideas coursed through the hairdresser’s 
head. Was this policeman ‘after’ the goddess .upstairs? 
Did he know anything more ?■ Would it be better to give 
up the statue at once and get rid of it? But then — his 
ring would be lost forever ! 

“ It’s surprising,” he said at last; “but what did they 
want to go and burgle a plaster figure for ?” 

“ That’s where it is, you see ; she ain’t plaster — she’s 
marble, a genuine antic of Venus, and worth thousands. 
The beggars who broke in knew that, and took nothing 
else. They’d made all arrangements to get away with her 
abroad, and pass her off on some foreign collection before 
it got blown upon ; and they’d have done it too if we 
hadn’t been beforehand with them ! So what do they do 
then? They drive up with her to these gardens, ask to 
see the manager, and say they’re agents for some Fine 
Arts business, and have a sample with them, to be dis- 
posed of at a low price. The manager, so he tells me, had 
a look at it, thought it a neat article and suitable to the 
style of his gardens. He took it to be plain plaster, as 
they said, and they put it up for him their own selves, near 
the small gate up by the road ; then they took the money, 
a pound or two they asked for it, and drove away, and he 
saw no more of them.” 

“ And was that all they got for their pains ? ” said Le- 
ander. 

The inspector smiled indulgently. “ Don’t you see your 


THE IE NEED VENUS. 


37 


way yet ? ” he asked. “ Can’t you give a guess where that 
statue’s got to now, eh ? ” 

“No,” said Leander, with what seemed to the inspector 
a quite uncalled-for excitement, “of course I can’t! What 
do you ask me for? How should I know?” 

“Quite so,” said the other, “you want a mind trained 
to deal with these things, it may surprise you to hear it, 
but I know as well how that statue disappeared, and what 
was done with her, as if I’d been there 1 ” 

“ Do you though ? ” thought Leander, who was begin- 
ning to doubt whether his visitor’s penetration was any- 
thing so abnormal. “ What was done with her ? ” he asked. 

“Why, it was a plant from the first.. They knew all 
their regular holes were stopped, and they wanted a place 
to dump her down in, where she wouldn’t attract attention, 
till they could call for her again ; so they got her taken in 
at the gardens, where they could come in any time by the 
gate and fetch her off again, and very neatly it was done, 
too 1 ” 

“But where do you make out they’ve taken her to 
now ?” asked Leander, who was naturally anxious to dis- 
cover if the official had any suspicions of him. 

“ I’ve my own theory about that,” was his answer. “ I 
shall hunt that Venus down, sir ; I’ll stake my reputation 
on it.” 

“Venus is her name, it seems,” thought Leander. “She 
told me it was Aphrodite. But perhaps the other’s her 
Christian name. It can’t be the Venus I’ve seen the pict- 
ures of — she’s dressed too decent.” 

“Yes,” repeated the inspector, “I shall hunt her down 
now. I don’t envy the poor devil who’s giving her house- 
room ; he’ll have reason to repent it ! ” 

“ How do you know anyone’s giving her house-room ? ” 
inquired Leander, “ and why should he repent it ? ” 

“ Ask your own common-sense. They daren’t take her 
back to any of their own places ; they know better. They 
haven’t left the country with her. What remains ? They’ve 
bribed or got over some mug of an outsider to be their 
accomplice, and a bad speculation he’ll find it too.” 

“What would be done to him ?” asked the hairdresser, 
with a quite unpleasant internal sensation. 

“That is a question I wouldn’t pretend to decide ; but 
I’ve no hesitation in saying that the party on whose prem- 
ises that statue is discovered will wish he’d died before he 
ever set eyes on her.” 


THE TINTED VENUS. 


3 « 


“ You’re quite right there ! ” said Leander. ‘'Well, sir, 
I’m afraid I haven’t been much assistance to you.” 

“Never mind that,” said the inspector encouragingly ; 
“ you’ve answered my questions ; you’ve not hindered 
the law, and that’s a game some burn their fingers at” 

Leander let him out, and returned to his saloon with his 
head in a worse wliirl than before. He did not think the 
detective suspected him. He was clearly barking up the 
wrong tree at present ; but so acute a mind could not be 
long deceived, and if once Leander was implicated his 
guilt would appear beyond denial. Would the police be- 
lieve that the statue had run after him ? No one would 
believe it ! To be found in possession of that fatal work 
of art would inevitably ruin him. 

He might carry her away to some lonely spot and leave 
her, but what was the use ? She would only come back 
again ; or he might be taken in the act. He dared not de- 
stroy her ; his right arm had been painful all day after 
that last attempt. 

If he gave her up to the authorities, he would have to 
explain how he came to be in a position to do so, which, 
as he now saw, would be a difficult undertaking ; and even 
then he would lose all chance of recovering his ring in 
time to satisfy his aunt and Matilda. There was no way 
out of it, unless he could induce Venus to give up the 
token and leave him alone. 

“ Cuss her ! ” he said angrily ; “ a pretty bog she’s led 
me into, she and that minx, Ada Parkinson ! ” 

He felt so thoroughly miserable that hunger had van- 
ished, and he dreaded the idea of an evening at home, 
though it was a blusterous night, with occasional vicious 
spurts of rain, and by no means favorable to continued 
pacing of streets and squares. 

“ I’m hanged if I^ don’t think I’ll go to church ! ” he 
thought, “and perhdps I shall feel more equal to supper 
afterward.” 

He went upstairs to get his best hat and overcoat, and 
was engaged in brushing the former in his sitting-room, 
when from within the cupboard he heard a shower of loud 
raps. 

His knees trembled. “ She’s wuss than any ghost ! ” he 
thought ; but he took no notice and went on brushing 
his hat, while he endeavored to hum a hymn. 

“ Leander ! ” cried the clear, hard voice he knew too 
well, “ I have returned. Release me ! ” 


THE TINTED l^ENUS. 


39 


His first idea was to run out of the house and seek 
sanctuary in some pew in the opposite church. “ But 
there,” he thought disgustedly, “ she’d only come in and 
sit next to me. No, I’ll pluck up a spirit and have it out 
with her ! ” and he threw open the door. 

“ How have you dared to imprison me in this narrow 
tomb ? ” she demanded majestically, as she stepped forth. 

Leander cringed. “ It’s a nice, roomy cupboard,” he 
said. “ I thought perhaps you wouldn’t mind putting up 
with it, especially as you invited yourself,” he could not 
help adding. 

“When I found myself awake and in utter darkness,” 
she said, “ I thought you had buried me beneath the soil.” 

“ Buried you -! ” he exclaimed, with a sudden perception 
that he might do worse. 

“And in that thought I was preparing to invoke the 
forces that lie below the soil to come to my aid, burst the 
masses that impeded me, and overwhelm you and all this 
ugly swarming city in one vast ruin ! ” 

“I won’t bury her,” Leander decided. “ I’m sorry you 
hadn’t a better opinion of me, mum,” he said aloud. “You 
see, how you came to be in there was this way : when you 
went out like the snuff of a candle, so to speak, you left 
your statue standing in the middle of the floor, and I had 
to put it somewhere where it wouldn’t be seen.” 

“You did well,” she said indulgently, “to screen my im- 
age from the vulgar sight ; and if you had no statelier 
shrine wherein to instal it, the fault lies not with you. You 
are pardoned.” 

“Thank you, mum,” said Leander ; “and now let me ask 
you if you intend to animate that statue like this as a reg- 
ular thing ? ” 

“ So long as your obstinacy continues, or until it outlives 
my forbearance, I shall return at intervals,” she said. 
“ Why do you ask this ? ” 

“Well,” said Leander, with a sinking heart, but hoping 
desperately to move her by the terrors of the law, “ it’s my 
duty to tell you that that image you’re in is stolen prop- 
erty.” 

“ Has it been stolen from one of my temples ? ” she 
asked. 

“ I daresay — I don’t know ; but there’s the police moving 
heaven and earth to get you back again ! ” 

“He is good and pious — the police — and if I knew him 
I would reward him.” 


40 


THE Tinted vends. 


“ There’s a good many hims in the police — that’s what 
we call oiir guards for the street, who take up thieves and 
bad characters ; and, being stolen, they’re all of ’em after 
you ; and if they had a notion where you were, they’d be 
down on you, and back you’d go to wherever you’ve come 
from — some gallery, I believe, where you wouldn’t get 
away again in a hurry ! Now I tell you what it is, if you 
don’t give me up that ring, and go away and leave me in 
quiet. I’ll tell the police who you are and where you are. 
I mean what I say, by George I do ” 

“We know not George, nor will it profit you to invoke 
him now,” said the goddess. “ See, I will deign to reason 
with you as with some froward child. Think you that, 
should the guards seize my image, / should remain within, 
or that it is aught to me where this marble presentment 
finds a resting-place while I am absent therefrom ? But 
for you, should you surrender it into their hands, would 
there be no punishment for your impiety in thus concealing 
a divine effigy ? ” 

“She ain’t no fool!” thought Leander; “she mayn’t 
understand our ways, but she is a match for me notwith- 
standing. I must try another line.” 

“Lady Venus,” he began, “if that’s the proper way to 
call you, I didn’t mean any threats — far from it. I’ll be 
as humble as you please. You look a good-natured lady'; 
you wouldn’t want to make a man uncomfortable. I’m 
sure. Do give me back that ring, for mercy’s sake ! If I 
haven’t got it to show in a day or two, I shall be ruined ! ’’ 
“Should any mortal require the ring of you, you have 
but to reply, ‘ I have placed it upon the finger of Aphro- 
dite, whose spouse I am ! ’ Thus will you have honor among 
mortals, being held blameless ! ” 

“Blameless!” cried Leander, in pardonable exasperation, 
“that’s all you know about it ! And what am I to say to 
the lady it lawfully belongs to ? ” 

“You have lied to me then, and you are already affianced ! 
Tell me the abode of this maiden of yours.” 

“ What do you want it for ? ” he inquired, hoping faintly 
she might intend to restore the ring. 

“To seek it out, to go to her abode, to crush her ! Is she 
not my rival ? ” 

“Crush my Matilda?” he cried in agony; “you’ll never 
do such a thing as that ? ” 

“You have revealed her name ! I have but to ask in your 
streets, ‘ Where abideth Matilda, the beloved of Leander, 


THE TUTTED VENUS. 


4t 

the dtesser of hair? Lead me to her dwelling.’ And hav- 
ing arrived thereat, I shall crush her, and thus she shall 
deservedly perish ! ” 

He was horrified at the possible effects of his slip, which 
he hastened to repair. You won’t find it so easy to come 
at her, luckily,” he said; “there’s hundreds of Matildas in 
London alone ! ” 

“Then,” said the goddess,sweetlyand calmly, “it is simple: 
I shall crush them all.” 

“ Oh, Lor,” whimpered Leander, “ here’s a bloodthirsty 
person ! Where’s the sense of doing that ? ” 

“ Because, dissipated reveller that you are, you love 
them.” 

“ Now when did I ever say I loved them ? I don’t even 
know more than two or three, and those I look on as sisters 
— in fact ” (here he hit upon a lucky evasion) “they are 
sisters — it’s only another name for them. I’ve a brother 
and three Matildas, and here are you talking of crushing 
my poor sisters as if they were so many beadles — all for 
^nothing?” 

“ Is this the truth ? Palter not with me ! You are pledged 
to no mortal bride ? ” 

“I'm a bachelor. And as for the ring, it belongs to my 
aunt, who’s over fifty.” 

“ Then no one stands between us and you are mine ! ” 

“ Don’t talk so ridiculous. I tell you I ain’t yours — it’s 
a free country, this is ! ” 

“If I — an immortal — can stoop thus, it becomes you not 
to reject the dazzling favor.” 

A last argument occurred to him. “ But I reelly don’t 
think, mum,” he said persuasively, “ that you can be quite 
aware of the extent of the stoop. The fact is, I am, as I’ve 
tried to make you understand, a hairdresser; some might 
lower themselves so far as to call me a barber. Now hair- 
dressing, whatever may be said for it ” (he could not readily 
bring himself to decry his profession), “ hairdressing is 
considribly below you in social rank. I wouldn’t deceive 
you by saying otherwise. I assure you that, if you had 
any ideer what a barber was, you would’nt be so press- 
ing.” 

She seemed to be struck by this. “You say well !” she 
observed thoughtfully ; “ your occupation may be base and 
degrading, and if so, it were well for me to know it.” 

“ If you were once to see me in my daily avocations,” 
he urged, “ you’d see what a mistake you’re making.” 


42 


THE TINTED VENDS. 


“ Enough ! I will see you — and at once. Barb, that I 
may know the nature of your toil !” 

“ I can’t do that now,” he objected ; ‘‘ I haven’t got a 
customer.” 

“Then fetch one, and barb with it immediately. You 
must have your tools by you ; so delay not ! ” 

“ A customer ain’t a tool!” he groaned, “ it’s a fellow- 
man ; and no one will come in to-night, because it’s Sun- 
day. (Don’t ask me what Sunday is, because you wouldn’t 
understand if I tried to tell you !) And I don’t carry on 
my business up here, but below in the saloon.” 

“ I will go thither and beliold you.” 

“ No ! ” he exclaimed. “ Do you want to ruin me ? ” 

“I will make no sign; none shall recognize me for 
what I am. But come 1 will ! ” 

Leander pondered awhile. There was danger in intro- 
ducing the goddess into his saloon ; he had no idea what 
she might do there. But at the same time, if she were 
bent upon coming, she would probably do so in any case ; 
and besides, he felt tolerably certain that what she would 
see would convince her of his utter unsuitability as a 
consort. 

Yes, it was surely wisest to assist necessity, and obtain 
the most favorable conditions for the inevitable experi- 
ment. 

“ I might put you in a corner of the operating room, to 
be sure,” he said, thoughtfully ; “ no one would think but 
what you was a part of the fittings, unless you went mov- 
ing about.” 

“ Place me where I may behold you at your labor, and 
there I will remain,” she said. 

“ Well,” he conceded, “ I’ll risk it. The best way would 
be for you to walk down to the saloon, and leave yourself 
ready in a corner till you come to again. I can’t carry a 
heavy marble image all that way!” 

“So be it,” said she, and followed him to the saloon 
with a proud docility. 

“ It’s nicely got up,” he remarked, as they reached it, 
“ and you’ll find it roomier than the cupboard.” 

She deigned no answer as she remained motionless in 
the corner he had indicated ; and presently, as he held up 
the candle he was carrying, he found its rays were shin- 
ing upon a senseless stone. 

He went upstairs again, half fearful, half sanguine. “I 
don’t altogether like it,” he was thinking. “ But if I put 


7' HE TIN7ED VENUS. 


43 


a print wrapper over her all day, no one will notice. And 
goddesses must have their proper pride. If she once gets 
it into her marble head that I keep a shop, I think that 
she’ll turn up her nose at me. And then she’ll give back 
the ring and go away, and I sha’n’t be afraid of the po- 
lice ; and I needn’t tell Tillie anything about it. It’s worth 
risking.” 


CHAPTER V. 

AN EXPERIMENT. 

“ ’Tis lime; descend; be stone no more; approach : 

Strike all that look upon with marvel.” — 77ie l^VinteVs Tale. 

The next day brought Leander a letter which made his 
heart beat with mingled emotions — it was from his Ma- 
tilda. It had evidently been written immediately before 
her return, and told him that she would be at their old 
meeting-place (the statue of Fox, in Bloomsbury Square) 
at eight o’clock that evening. 

The wave of tenderness which swept over him at the 
anticipation of this was hurled back by an uncomfortable 
thought. What if Matilda were to refer to the ring ? But 
no ; his Matilda would do nothing so indelicate. 

All through the day he mechanically went through 
his hair-dressing, singeing, and shampooing operations, 
divided between joy at the prospect of seeing his adored 
Matilda again, and anxiety respecting the cold marble 
swathed in the print wrapper, which stood in a corner of 
his hair-cutting saloon. 

He glanced at it every time he went past to change a 
brush or heat a razor ; but there was no sign of move- 
ment under the folds, and he gradually became reassured, 
especially as it excited no remark. 

But as evening drew on he felt that, for the success of 
his experiment, it was necessary that the cover should be 
removed. It was dangerous, supposing the inspector were 
to come in unexpectedly and recognize the statue ; but he 
could only trust to fortune for that, and hoped too that 
even if the detective came he would be able to keep him 
in the outer shop. 

It was only for one. evening, and it was well worth the 
risk. 


44 


THE TUTTED P’S. VC'S. 


A foreign gentleman had come in, and the hairdresser 
found that a fresh wrapper was required, which gave him 
the excuse he wanted for unveiling the Aphrodite. He i 
looked carefully at the face as he uncovered it, but could 
discover no speculation as yet in the calm, full gaze of the 
goddess. 

The foreign gentleman was inclined to be talkative under 
treatment, and tlie conversation came round to public 
amusements. “ In my country,” the customer said, with- 
out mentioning or betraying what his particular country 
was, “ in my country we have what you have not, places to 
sit out in the fresh air, and drink a glass of beer, along 
with the entertainments. You have not that in London ? ” 

“ Bless your soul, yes,” said Leander, who was a true 
patriot, “plenty of them !” 

“Oh, I did not aware that — but who ?” 

“ Well,” said the hairdresser, “ there's the Eagle in the 
City Road, for one ; and there’s the Surrey Gardens — rand 
there’s Rosherwich,” he added, after a pause. (The Fish- 
eries Exhibition, it may be said, was as yet unknown.) 

“ And you go there, often ?” 

“ I’ve been to Rosherwich.” 

“Was it goot there — you laike it, eh ?” 

“Well,” said Leander, “they tell me it’s very gay in the 
season. P’rhaps I went at the wrong time of year for it.” 

“ What you call wrong time for it ? ” 

“Slack, nothing going on,” he explained, “like it was 
when I went last Saturday.” 

“ You went last Saturday. And you stay a long time ? ” 

“ I didn’t stay no longer than I could help,” Leander 
said ; “all our party was glad to get away.” 

The foreigner had risen to go, when his eyes fell on the 
Venus in the corner. 

“ You did not stay long, and your party was glad to come 
away ? ” he repeated, absently. “ lam not surprise at that.” 
He gave the hairdresser a long stare as he spoke. “ No, I 
am not surprise. ... You have a good taste, my friend ; 
you laike the antique, do you not ? ” he broke off suddenly. 

“Ah! you’re looking at the Venus, sir,” said Leander. 

“ Yes, I’m very partial to it.” 

“ It is a taste that costs,” his customer said. 

He looked back over his shoulder as he left the shop, 
and once more repeated softly, “ Yes, it is a taste that 
costs.” 

“ I suppose,” Leander reflected as he went back, “ it does 


THE TIXJ'ED VEiVUS. 


45 


Strike people as queer, my keeping that statue there ; but 
it’s only for one evening.” 

The foreigner had scarcely left, when an old gentleman, 
a regular customer, looked in, on his way from the city, 
and at once noticed the innovation. He w^as an old gentle- 
man who had devoted much time and study to Art, in the 
intervals of business, and had developed critical powers of 
the highest order. 

He walked straight up to the Venus, and stuck out his 
under lip. ‘AVhere did you get that thing ? ” he inquired ; 
‘‘ isn’t this place of yours small enough without lumbering 
it up with statuary out of the Euston Road ? ” 

“ I didn’t get it there,” said Leander ; “ I — I thought it 
would be ’andy to ’ang the ’ats on.” 

“ Dear, dear,” said the old gentleman, ‘‘ why do you peo- 
ple dabble in matters you don’t understand ? Come here, 
Tweddle, and let me show you. Can’t you see what a mis- 
erable sham the thing is — a cheap, tawdry imitation of the 
splendid classic type ? Why, by merely exhibiting such a 
thing, you’re vitiating public taste, sir, corrupting it.” 

Leander did not quite follow this rebuke, which he 
thought was probably based upon the goddess’s antece- 
dents.- 

“ Was she reelly as bad as that, sir ? ” he said. “ I wasn’t 
aware so, or I shouldn’t give any offence to customers by 
letting her stay here.” 

As he spoke he saw the indefinable indications in the 
statue’s face which denoted that it was instinct once more 
with life and intelligence, and he was horrified at the 
thought that the latter part of the conversation might 
have been overheard. 

“ But I’ve always understood,” he said hastily, “ that the 
party this represents was puffickly correct, however free 
some of the others might have been ; and I suppose that’s 
the costume of the period she’s in, and very becoming it 
is, I’m sure, though gone out since.” 

‘‘Bah!” said the old gentleman, “ it’s poor art. I’ll 
show you ivhere the thing is bad. I happen to understand 
something of these things. Just observe how the top of 
the head is out of drawing ; look at the lowness of the 
forehead, and the distance between the eyes ; all the can- 
ons of proportion ignored, absolutely ignored ! ” 

What further strictures this rash old gentleman was pre- 
paring to pass upon the statue will never be known now, 
for Tweddle already thought he could discern a growing 


46 


THE TINTED FENDS. 


resentment in her face, under so much candor. He could 
not stand by and arllow so excellent a customer to be 
crushed on the floor of his saloon, and he knew the Venus 
quite capable of this ; was she not perpetually threatening 
such a penalty on much slighter provocation ? 

He rushed between the unconscious man and his fate. 
“ I think you said your hair cut ? ” he said, and laid violent 
hands upon the critic, forced him protesting into a chair, 
throttled him with a towel, and effectually diverted his at- 
tention by a series of personal remarks upon the top of his 
head. 

The victim, while he was being shampooed, showed at 
first an alarming tendency to revert to the subject of the 
goddess’s defects, but Leander was able to keep him in 
check by well-timed j-ets of scalding water and ice-cold 
sprays, which he directed against his customer’s exposed 
crown, until every idea except impotent rage was washed 
out of it, while a fiard machine-brush completed the sub- 
jugation. 

Finally the unfortunate old man staggered out of the 
shop, preserved by Leander’s unremitting watchfulness 
from the wrath of the goddess. Yet such is tlie ingrati- 
tude of human nature that he left the place vowing to 
return no more. “ I thought I’d got a clown behind me, 
sir ! ” he used to say afterward in describing it. 

Before Leander could .recover from the alarm he had 
been thrown into, another customer had entered ; a pale 
young man, with a glossy hat, a white satin necktie, and a 
rather decayed gardenia. He, too, was one of Tweddle’s 
regular clients. What his occupation might be was a mys- 
tery, for he aimed at being considered a man of pleasure. 

“ I say, just shave me, will you,” he said, and threw him- 
self languidly into a chair. “ Fact is, Tweddle, I’ve been 
so doosid chippy for the last two days, I daren’t touch a 
razor.” 

“ Indeed, sir ! ” said Leander, with respectful sympathy. 

“You see,” explained the youth, “ I’ve been playing the 
goat — the giddy goat. Know what that means ? ” 

“I used to,” said Leander; “I never touch alcoholic 
stimulants now myself.” 

“Wish I didn’t. I say, Tweddle, have you been to the 
Cosmopolitan lately ? ” 

“ I don’t go to music-’alls now,'’ said Leander ; “ I’ve 
give up all that, now I’m keeping company.” 

“ Well, you go and see the new ballet,” the youth ex- 


THE TINTED VENUS. 


47 


horted him earnestly ; not that he cared whether the hair- 
dresser went or not, but because he wanted to talk about 
the ballet to somebody. 

“Ah !” observed Leander, “is that a good one they've 
got there now, sir ? ” 

“ Rather think so. Ballet called ‘ Olympus.’ There’s a 
regular ripping little thing w^ho comes on as one of Venus’s 
doves.” And the youth went on to intimate that the dove 
in question had shown signs of being struck by his pow- 
ers of fascination. “ I saw directly that I’d mashed her ; 
she was gone, dead gone, sir ; and — I say, who’s that in 
the corner over there, eh ? ” 

He was staring intently into the pier-glass in front of 
him. “ That ? ” said Leander, following his glance. “ Oh ! 
that’s a statue I’ve bought. She — she brightens up the 
place a bit, don’t she ? ” 

“ A statue, is it ? Yes, of course ; I knew it was a statiie. 
Well, about that dove. I went round after it was all over, 
but couldn’t see a sign of her ; so — That’s a queer sort 
of statue you’ve got there ! ” he broke off suddenly ; and 
Leander distinctly saw the goddess shake her arm in fierce 
menace. “ He’s said something that’s put her out,” he 
concluded. “ I wish I knew what it was.” 

“ It’s a classical statue, sir,” he said, with what compos- 
ure he might ; “ they’re all made like that.” 

“ Are they, by Jove ? But, Tweddle, I say, it moves ; it’s 
shaking its fist like old Harry ! ” 

“ Oh, I think you’re mistaken, sir, really ! I don’t per- 
ceive it myself.” 

“ Don’t perceive it ? But, hang it, man, look — look in 
the glass ! There ! don’t you see it does ? Dash it ! can’t 
you say it does ? ” 

“ Flaw in the mirror, sir ; when you move your ’ed, you do 
ketch that effect. I’ve observed it myself frequent. Chin cut, 
sir ? My fault — my fault entirely,” he admitted handsomely. 

The young man was shaved by this time, and had risen 
to receive his hat and cane, when he gave a violent start as 
he passed the Aphrodite. “ There ! ” he said, breathlessly ; 
“look at that, Tweddle ; she’s going to punch my head! 
I suppose you’ll tell me that's the glass ? ” 

Leander trembled — this time for his own reputation ; 
for the report that he kept a mysterious and pugnacious 
statue on the premises would not increase his custom. He 
must silence it, if possible. “ I’m afraid it is, sir — in a 
way,” he remarked compassionately. 


48 


THE TINTED VENUS. 


The young man turned paler still. “ No ! ” he exclaimed ; 
“ you don’t think it is, though ? Don’t you see anything 
yourself? I don’t either, Twcddle ; I was chaffing, that’s 
all. I know I’m a wee bit off color ; but it’s not so bad as 
that. Keep off ! Tell her to drop it, Tweddle ! ” 

For, as he spoke, the goddess had made a stride toward 
him. “Miserable one!” she cried; “you have mangled 
one of my birds. Hence, or I crush thee ! ” 

“Tweddle! Tweddle!” cried the youth, taking refuge 
in the outer shop, “ don’t let her come after me ! What’s 
she talking about, eh ? You shouldn’t have these things 
about ; they’re — they’re not right ! ” 

Leander shut the glass door and placed himself before 
it, while he tried to assume a concerned interest. “You 
take my advice, sir,” he said; “you go home and keep 
steady.” 

“ Is it that ?” murmured the customer. “ Great Scott ! 
I must be bad ! ” and he went out into the street, shaking. 

“ I don’t believe I shall ever see him again, either,” 
thought Leander. “ She’ll drive ’em all away if she goes 
on like this.” But here a sudden recollection struck him, 
and he slapped his thigh with glee. “Why, of counse,” he 
said, “that’s it. I’ve downright disgusted her; it was me 
she was most put out with, and after this she’ll leave me 
alone. Hooray! I’ll shut up everything first and get rid 
of the boy, and then go in and see her, and get away to 
Matilda.” 

When the shop was secured for the night, he re-entered 
the saloon with a light step. “Well, mum,” he began, 
“ you’ve seen me at work, and you’ve thought better of 
what you were proposing, haven’t you now ? ” 

“ Where is the wretched stripling who dared to slay my 
dove ?” she cried. “ Bring him to me ! ” 

“What are you a-talking about now?” cried the bewil- 
dered Leander. “Who’s been touching your birds? I 
wasn’t aware you kepi birds.” 

“ Many birds are sacred to me — the silver swan, the fear- 
less sparrow, and, chief of all, the coral-footed dove. And 
one of these has that monster slain — his own mouth hath 
spoken it.” 

“Oh! is that all?” said Leander. “Why, he wasn’t 
talking about a real dove ! it was a ballet girl he meant. 
I can’t explain the difference ; but they are different. And 
it’s all talk, too. I know him ; he's harmless enough. And 
now, mum, to come to the point, you’ve now had the op- 


THE TINTED VENUS, 


49 


portunity of forming some ideer of my calling. You’ve 
thought better of it, haven’t you ? ” 

“ Better ! ay, far better ! ” she cried, in a voice that 
thrilled with pride. “Leander, too modestly you have 
rated yourself, for surely you are great .amongst the sons 
of men.” 

Me ! he gasped, utterly overcome. “How do you 
make that out ? ” ' • 

“ Do you not compel them to furnish sport for you ? 
Have I not seen them come in, talking boldly and loud, 
and yet seat themselves submissively at a sign from you ? 
And do you not swathe them in the garb of humiliation, 
daub their countenances with whiteness, and threaten their 
bared throats with the gleaming knife, and grind their heads 
under the resistless wheel ? Then, having in disdain 
granted them their worthless lives, you set them free ; and 
they propitiate you with a gift, and depart trembling.” 

“Well, of all the topsy-turvy contrariness! ” he protested. 
“You’ve got it all wrong ; I declare you have 1 But I’ll put 
you right, if it’s possible to do it.” And he launched into 
a lengthy explanation of the wonders she had seen, at the 
end of which he inquired, Now do you understand I’m 
nobody in particular ?” 

“ It may be so,” she admitted ; “ but what of that t Ere 
this have I been wild with love for a herdsman on Phrygian 
hills. Ay, Adonis have I kissed in the oakwood, and be- 
wailed his loss. And did not Selene descend to woo the 
neatherd Endymion Wherefore, then, should I scorn 
thee? and what are the differences and degrees of mortals 
to such as I ? Be bold ; distrust your merits no longer, 
since I, who amongst the goddesses obtained the prize of 
beauty, have chosen you for my own.” 

“ I don’t care what prizes you won,” he said, sulkily ; 
“ I’m not yours, and I don’t intend to be either.” He was 
watching the clock impatiently all the while, for it was 
growing very near nine. 

“It is vain to struggle,” she said, “since not the gods 
themselves can resist Fate. We must yield and contend 
not.” 

“You begin it then,” he said ; “give me my ring.” 

“The sole symbol my power! the charm which has 
called me from my long sleep ! Never ! ” 

“Then,” said Leander, knowing full well that his threat 
was an impossible one, “ I shall place the matter in the 
hands of a respectable lawyer.” 

4 


50 


THE TINTED VENUS. 


“ I understand you not ; but it is no matter. In time I 
shall prevail.” 

“Well, mum, you must come again another evening, if 
you’ve no objection,” said Leander, rudely, “because I’ve 
got to go out just now.” 

“ I will accompany you,” she said. 

Leander nearly danced with frenzy. Take the statue 
with him to meet his dear Matilda ! He dared not. “You’re 
very kind,” he stammered, perspiring freely ; “but I couldn’t 
think of taking you out such a foggy evening.” 

“Have no cares for me,” she answered; “we will go 
together. You shall explain to me the ways of this 
changed world.” 

“ Catch me ! ” was Leander’s elliptical comment to him- 
self ; but he had to pretend a delighted acquiescence. 
“Well,” he cried, “if I hadn’t been thinking how lonely it 
would be going out alone ! and now I shall have the honor 
of your company, mum. You wait a bit here, while I run 
upstairs and fetch my ’at.” 

But the perfidious man only waited until he was on the 
other side of the door which led from the saloon to his 
staircase to lock it after him, and slip out by the private 
door into the street. 

“Now, my lady,” he thought, triumphantly, “you’re safe 
for awhile, at all events. I’ve put up the shutters, and so 
you won’t get out that way. And now for Tillie ! ” 


CHAPTER VI. 

TWO ARE COMPANY. 

“The shape 
Which has made escape, 

And before my countenance 

Answers me glance for glance.” — Mesmerism. 

Leander hastened eagerly to his trysting-place. All 
these obstacles and difficulties had rendered his Matilda 
tenfold dearer and more precious to him ; and, besides, it 
was more than a fortnight since he had last seen her. But 
he was troubled and anxious still at the recollection of the 
Greek statue shut up in his haircutting saloon. What 
would Matilda say if she knew about it ; and, still worse, 


THE TINTED VENUS. 


51 


what might it not do if it knew about her? Matilda might 
decline to continue his acquaintance — for she was a very- 
right-minded girl— unless Venus, like the jealous and vin- 
dictive heathen she had shown herself to be, were to crush 
her before she even had the opportunity. 

“It’s a mess,” he thought, disconsolately, “whatever 
way I look at it. But after to-night I won’t meet Matilda 
any more while I’ve got that statue staying with me, or 
no one could tell the consequences.” However, when he 
drew near the appointed spot, and saw the slender form 
w’hich awaited him there by the railings, he forgot all but 
the present joy. Even the memory of the terrible divinity 
could not live in the wholesome presence of the girl he 
had the sense to truly and honestly love. 

Matilda Colluni was straight and slim, though not tall ; 
she had a neat little head of light brown hair, which 
curled round her temples in soft little rings ; her com- 
plexion was healthily pale, with the slightest tinge of deli- 
cate pink in it ; she had a round but decided chin, and her 
gray eyes were large and innocently severe, except on the 
rare occasions when she laughed, and then their expression 
was almost childlike in its gayety. 

Generally, and especially in business hours, her pretty 
face was calm and slightly haughty, and rash male cus- 
tomers who attempted to make the choice of a “ button- 
hole ” an excuse for flirtation were not encouraged to 
persevere. She was seldom demonstrative to Leander — it 
was not her way — but she accepted his effusive affection 
very contentedly, and, indeed, returned it more heartily 
than her principles allowed her to admit ; for she secretly 
admired his spirit and fluency, and, as is often the case in 
her class of life, had no idea that she was essentially her 
lover’s superior. 

After the first greetings, they walked slowly round the 
square together, his arm around her waist. Neither said 
very much for some minutes, but Leander was wildly, fool- 
ishly happy, and there was no severity in Matilda’s eyes 
when they shone in the lamp-light. 

“Well,” he said, at last, “and so I’ve actually got you safe 
back again, my dear, darling Tillie ! It seems like a long 
eternity sinoe last we met. I’ve been so beastly miserable, 
Matilda ! ” 

“ You do seem to have got thinner in the face, Leander, 
dear,” said Matilda, compassionately ; “ what have you 
been doing while I’ve been away ? ” 


52 


THE TINTED FENDS. 


‘‘ Only wishing my dearest girl back, that’s all Tve been 
doing.” 

What ! havn’t you given yourself any enjoyment at all 
— not gone out anywhere all the time ? ” 

“ Not once — leastwise, that is to say — ” A guilty mem- 
ory of Rosherwicii made him bungle here. 

‘‘Why, of course I didn’t expect you to stop indoors all 
the time,” said Matilda, noticing the amendment, “ so long 
as )"ou never went where you wouldn’t take me.” 

Oh, conscience, conscience ! But Rosherwich didn’t 
count : it was outside the radius ; and besides, he hadn't 
enjoyed himself. 

“Well,” he said, “I did go out one evening, to hear a 
lecture on Astronomy at the Town Hall, in the Gray’s Inn 
Road ; but then T had the ticket given me by a customer, 
and I really was surprised to find how regular the stars 
was in their habits, comets and all. But my ’Tilda is the 
only star of the evening for me, to-night. I don’t want to 
talk about anything else.” 

The diversion was successful, and Matilda asked no 
more inconvenient questions. Presently she happened to 
cough slightly, and he touched accusingly the light sum- 
mer cloak she was wearing. 

“ You’re not dressed warm enougli for a night like this,” 
he said, with a lover’s concern ; “ haven’t you got anything 
thicker to put on than that ? ” 

“ I haven’t bought my winter things yet,” said Matilda ; 
“ it was so mild, that I thought I’d wait till I could afford it 
better. But I’ve chosen the very thing I mean to bu)^ 
You know Mrs. Twillings, at the top of the Row, the 
corner shop t Well, in the window there’s a perfectly 
lovely long cloak, all lined with squirrel’s fur, and with 
those nice oxydized silver fastenings. A cloak like that 
lasts ever so long, and will always look neat and quiet ; 
and any one can wear it without being stared after ; so I 
mean to buy it as soon as it turns really cold.” 

“ Ah ! ” said he, “ I can’t have you ketching cold, you 
know ; it ain’t summer any longer, and I — I’ve been 
thinking we must give up our evening strolls together for 
the present.” 

“When you’ve just been saying how miserable you’ve 
been without them. Oh, Leander ! ” 

“Without you," he amended, lamely. “I shall see you 
at aunt’s of course ; only we’d better suspend the walks 
while the nights are so raw. And, oh, Tillie, ere long you 


THE TINTED FENDS. 


S3 


will be mine, my little wife ! Only to think of you keep- 
ing the books for me with your own pretty little fingers, and 
sending out the bills ! (not that I give much credit). Ah, 
what a blissful dream it sounds ! Does it to you, Matilda ? ” 

“ I’m not sure that you keep your books the same way 
as we do,” she replied, demurely : “but I daresay ” — (and 
this was a great concession for Matilda) — “ I daresay we 
shall suit one another.” 

“ Suit one another ! ” he cried. “ Ah ! we shall be insep- 
arable as a brush and comb, Tillie, if you will excuse so 
puffessional a stimulus. And what a future lies before 
me ! If I can only succeed in introducing some of my 
inventions to public notice, we may rise, Tilly, ‘like an 
exclamation,’ as the poet says. I believe my new nasal 
splint has only to be known to become universally worn ; 
and I’ve been thinking out a little machine lately for im- 
parting a patrician arch to the flattest foot, that ought to 
have an extensive run. I almost wish you weren’t so pret- 
ty, Tillie, I’ve studied you careful, and I’m bound to say, 
as it is there really isn’t room for any improvement I could 
suggest. Nature’s beaten me there, and I’m not too proud 
to own it.” 

“Would you rather there 7Cfas room ?” inquired Matilda. 

“From a puffessional point of view, it would have in- 
spired me,” he said. “ It would have suggested ideers, 
and I shouldn’t have loved you less, not if you hadn’t had 
a tooth in your mouth nor a hair on your head ; you would 
still be my beautiful Tillie.” 

“ I would rather be as I am, thank you,” said Matilda, to 
whom this fancy sketch did not appeal. “ And now let’s 
talk about something else. Do you know that mamma is 
coming up to town at the end of the week on purpose to 
see you ? ” 

“No,” said Leander, “I — I didn’t.” 

“Yes, she’s taken the whole of your aunt’s first floor for 
a week. (You know' she knew Miss Tweddle when she 
was younger, and that w'as how I came to lodge there, and 
to meet you.) Do you remember that Sunday afternoon 
you came to tea, and your aunt invited me in, because she 
thought I must be feeling so dull, all alone ?” 

“Ah, I should think I did ! Do you remember I helped 
to toast the crumpets ? What a halcyon evening that w'as, 
Matilda ! ” 

“Was it?” she said, “ I don’t remember the weather 
exactly, but it was nice indoors.^’ 


54 


THE TINTED VENDS. 


“But, I say, Tillie, my own,” he said, somewhat anxious- 
ly, “ how does your ma like your being engaged to me ? ” 

“ Well, I don’t think she does like it quite,” said Matilda. 
“ She says she will reserve her consent till she sees whether 
you are worthy ; but directly she sees you, Leander, her 
objections will vanish.” 

“ She has got objections, then ? What to ? ” 

“ Mother always wanted me to keep my affections out 
of trade,” said Matilda. “You see she never can’t forget 
what poor papa was.” 

“And what was your poor papa? ” asked Leander. 

“ Didn’t you know^ ? Fie was a dentist, and that makes 
mamma so very particular, you see.” 

“ But hang it, Matilda ! you’re employed in a flower 
shop, you know.” . 

“Yes, but mamma never really approved of it; only she 
had to give way because she couldn’t afford to keep me at 
home, and I scorned to go out as a governess. Never 
mind, Leander ; when she comes to know you and hear 
your conversation, she will relent ; her pride will melt.” 

“ But suppose it keep solid ; what will you do, Matil- 
da ? ” 

“ I am independent, Leander ; and though I would pre- 
fer to marry with mamma’s approval, I shouldn’t feel 
bound to wait for it. So long as you are all I think you 
are, I shouldn’t allow anyone to dictate to me.” 

“ Bless you for those words, my angelic girl ! ” he said, 
and hugged her close to his breast. “Now, I can beard 
your ma with a light ’art. Oh, Matilda! you can form no 
ideer how I worship you. Nothing shall ever come be- 
twixt us two, shall it ? ” 

“Nothing, as far as I am concerned, Leander,” she re- 
plied. “ What’s the matter ? ” 

Fie had given a furtive glance behind him after the last 
words, and his embrace suddenly relaxed, until his arm 
was withdrawn altogether. 

“ Nothing is the matter, Matilda,” he said. Doesn’t the 
moon look red through the fog?” 

“ Is that why you took away your arm ?” she inquired. 

“Yes — that is, no. It occurred to me I was rendering 
you too conspicuous; we don’t want to go about ad- 
vertising ourselves, you know.” 

“But who is there here to notice ?” asked Matilda. 

“Nobody,” he said; “oh, nobody! but we mustn’t get 
into the 7£'ay of it and he cast another furtive, rearward 


THE TINTED FENDS. 


55 


look. In the full flow of his raptures the miserable hair- 
dresser had seen a sight which had frozen his very marrow 
— a tall form, in flowing drapery, gliding up behind with 
a tigress-like stealth. The statue had broken out, in spite 
of all his precautions ! Venus, jealous and exacting, was 
near enough to overhear ever)'- word, and he could scarcely 
hope she had escaped seeing the arm he had thrown round 
Matilda’s waist. 

“ You were going to tell me how you worshipped me,” 
said Matilda. 

“ I didn’t say worships" he protested ; it — it’s only im- 
ages and such that expect that. But I can tell you there’s 
very few brothers feel to you as I feel.” 

“ Leander ! ” exclaimed Matilda, and walked 

farther apart from him. 

“Yes,” he said; “after all, what tie’s closer than a 
brother ? A uncle’s all very well, and similarly a cousin ; 
but they can’t feel like a brother does, for brothers they 
are not.” 

“ I should have thought there were ties still closer,” said 
Matilda ; “you seemed to think so too, once.” 

“ Oh, ah ! that ! ” he said. (Every frigid word gave him 
a pang to utter ; but it was all for Matilda’s sake.) “ There’s 
time enough to think of that, my girl ; we mustn’t be in a 
hurry.” 

“ I’m not in a hurry,” said Matilda. 

“That’s the proper way to look at it,” said he; “and 
meanwhile I haven’t got a sister I’m fonder of than I am 
of you.” 

“ If you’ve nothing more to say than that, we had better 
part,” she remarked ; and he caught at the suggestion with 
obvious relief. He had been in an agony of terror, lest, 
even in the gathering fog, she should detect that they were 
watched ; and then, too, it was better to part with her under 
a temporary misconception than part with her altogether. 

“Well,” he said, “I mustn’t keep you out any longer 
with that cold.” 

“ You are very ready to get rid of me,” said poor Matilda. 

“ The real truth is,” he answered, simulating a yawn 
with a heavy heart, “ I am most uncommon sleepy to- 
night, and all this standing about is too much for me. So 
good-bye, and take care of yourself ! ” 

“ I needn’t say that to you,” she said ; “but I won’t keep 
you up a minute longer. I wonder you troubled to come 
out at all.” 


56 


THE TINTED VENUS. 


“ Oh,” he said, carefully keeping as much in front of the 
statue as he could, “it’s no trouble ; but you’ll excuse me 
seeing you to the door this evening ?” 

“Oh, certainly,” said Matilda, biting her lip. She 
touched his hand with the ends of her fingers, and hurried 
away without turning her head. 

When she was out of sight Leander faced around to the 
irrepressible goddess ; he was in a white rage ; but terror 
and caution made him suppress it to some extent. 

“ So here you are again ! ” he said. 

“ Why did you not wait for me ? ” she answered. “ I 
remained long for you ; you came not ; and I followed.” 

“ I see you did,” said the aggrieved Leander ; “ I can’t 
say I like being spied upon. If you’re a goddess, act as 
such ! ” 

“ What ! you dare to upbraid me ? ” she cried ; “ beware, 
or I ” 

“ I know,” said Leander, flinching from her. “ Don’t do 
that ; I only made a remark.” 

“ I have the right to follow you ; I choose to do so.” 

“ If you must, you must,” he groaned ; “ but it does 
seem hard that I mayn’t slip out for a few minutes’ talk 
with my only sister.” 

“ You said you were going to run for business, and you 
told me you had three sisters.” 

So I have ; but only youngest one.” 

“ And why did they not all come to talk with you ? ” 

“ I suppose because the other two stayed at home,” re- 
joined Leander, sulkily. 

“ I know’ not why, but I doubt you ; that one who came, 
she is not like you ! ” 

“No,” said Leander, with a great show of candor, “ that’s 
what every one says ; all our family are like that ; we are 
like in a way, because we’re all of us so different. You 
can tell us anywhere just by the difference. My father 
and rnother were both very unlike ; I suppose we take 
after them.” 

The goddess seemed satisfied with this explanation. 
“And now that I have regained you, let us return to your 
abode,” she said ; and Leander walked back by her side, a 
prey to rage and humiliation. “ It is a miserable thing,” 
he was thinking, “ for a man in my rank of life to have a 
female statue trotting after him like a great dorg. I’m 
d d if I put up witii it ! Suppose we happen on some- 

body as knows me ! ” 


THE TINTED PENDS. 


57 


Fortunately, at that time of night Bloomsbury Square is 
not much frequented ; the increasing fog prevented the 
apparition of a female in classical garments from attract- 
ing tl^ notice to which it might otherwise have been ex- 
posed, and they reached the shop without any disagreeable 
encounter. 

“ She shan’t stop in the saloon,” he determined ; “ I’ve 
had enough of that! If you’ve no objections,” he said, 
with a mixture of deference and dictation, “ I shall be 
obliged if you’d settle yourself in the little shrine in the 
upstairs room before proceeding to evaporate out of your 
statue ; it would be m(^e agreeable to my feelings.” 

“Ah!” she said, smiling, “you would have me nearer 
you ? Your stubborn heart is yielding ; a little while, and 
you will owm the power of Aphrodite ! ” 

“ Now, don’t you go deceiving yourself with any such 
ideers,” said the hairdresser, irritably. “ I sha’n’t do no 
such thing, so you needn’t think it. And to come to the 
point, how long do you mean to carry on this little 
game ? ” 

“ Game ? ” repeated the goddess, absently. 

“ How long are you going to foller me about in this 
ridiculous way ? ” 

“ Till you submit and profess your willingness to redeem 
your promise.” 

“ Oil, and you’re coming every evening till then, are 
you ? ” 

“At nightfall of each day I have power to revisit you.” 

“ Well, come, then ! ” he said, with a fling of impatient 
anger. “ I tell you beforehand that you won’t get any- 
thing by it. Not if you was to come and bring a whole 
stonemason’s yard of sculptures along with you, you 
wouldn’t ! You ought to know better than to come pes- 
tering a respectable tradesman in this bold-faced manner ! ” 

She smiled with a languid, contemptuous tolerance, 
which maddened Leander. 

“ Rave on,” she said. “ Truly, you are a sorry prize for 
such as I to stoop to win ; yet I will it, nor shall you es- 
cape me. There will come a day when, forsaken by all 
you hold dear on earth, despised, ruined, distracted, you 
will pray eagerly for the haven of refuge to which I alone 
can guide you. Take heed, lest your conduct now be re- 
membered then ! I have spoken.” 

They were indeed her last words that evening, and they 
impressed the hairdresser in spite of himself. Custom 


58 


THE TINTED VENDS. 


habituates the mind to any marvel, and already he had 
overcome his first horror at the periodical awakenings of 
the statue, and surprise was swallowed up by exasperation ; 
now, however, he quailed undjer her dark threats. Could 
it ever really come to pass that he would sue to this stone 
to hide him in the realms of the supernatural ? 

“I know this,” he told himself^ “if it once gets about 
that there’s a hairdresser to be seen in Bloomsbury chivied 
about after dark by a classical statue, I sha’n’t dare to show 
my face. Yet I don’t know how I’m to prevent her com- 
ing out after me, at all events now and then. If she was 
only a little more like other people I shouldn’t mind so 
much ; but it’s more than I can bear to have to go about 
with a tablow vivant or a pose plastique on my arm ! ” 

All at once he started to his feet. “ I’ve got it ! ” he 
cried, and went downstairs to his laboratory, to reappear 
with some camel-hair brushes, grease-paints, and a selec- 
tion from his less important discoveries in the science of 
cosmetics ; namely, an “ eyebrow accentuator,” a vase of 
“ Tweddle’s Cream of Carnations” and “ Blondinette 
Bloom,” a china box of “ Conserve of Coral ” for the lips, 
and one of his most expensive chevelures. 

He was trembling as he arranged them upon his table ; 
not that he was aware of the enormity of the act fie con- 
templated, but he was afraid the goddess might revisit the 
marble while he was engaged upon it. 

He furnished the blank eye-sockets with a pair of eyes, 
which, if not exactly artistic, at least supplied a want ; 
he pencilled the eyebrows, laid on several coats of the 
“ Bloom,” w^hich he suffused cunningly with a tinge of 
carnation, and stained the pouting lips wdth his “ Conserve 
of Coral.” 

So far, perhaps, he had not violated the canons of art, 
and may even have restored to the image something of its 
pristine hues ; but his next addition was one the vandalism 
of which admits of no possible defence, and when he deftly 
fitted the coiffure of light, closely-curled hair upon the no- 
ble, classical head, even Leander felt dimly that something 
was wrong ! 

“I don’t know liow it is,” he pondered; “she looks 
more natural, but not half so respectable. However, when 
she’s got something on to cover the marble, there won’t 
be anything much to notice about her. I’ll buy a cloak 
for her the first thing to-morrow morning. Matilda wais 
saying something about a shop near here where I could 


77//i TINTED TENDS. 


59 


get that. And then, if this Venus must come following 
me about, she’ll look less outlandish at any rate, and that’s 
something ! ” 


CHAPTER VII. 

A FURTHER PREDICAMENT. 

“ So long as the world contains us both, 

Me the loving and you the lotli, 

While the one eludes, must the other pursue.” — B rowning. 

Immediately after breakfast the next day, Leanderwent 
out and paid a visit to Miss Twilling’s, bringing away with 
him a hooded cloak of the precise kind he remembered 
Matilda to have described as unlikely to render its owner 
conspicuous. With this garment he succeeded in disguis- 
ing the statue to such a degree that it was far less likely 
than before that the goddess’s appearance in public would 
excite any particular curiosity — a result which somewhat 
relieved his anxiety as to her future proceedings. 

But all that day his thoughts were busy with Matilda ; 
he must, he feared, have deeply offended her by his abrupt' 
change on the previous night ; and now he could not ex- 
pect to meet her again for days, and would not know how 
to explain his conduct if he did meet her. 

If he could only dare to tell her everything ; but from 
such a course he shrank. Matilda would not only be ex- 
tremely indignant (though, in very truth, he had done 
nothing positively wrong as yet), but with her strict no- 
tions and well-regulated principles, she would assuredly 
recoil from a lover who had brought himself into a pre- 
dicament so hideous. He would tell her all when, or if, 
he succeeded in extricating himself. 

But he w’as to learn the nature of Matilda's sentiments 
sooner than he expected. It was growing dusk, and he 
was unpacking a parcel of goods in his front shop — for his 
saloon happened to be empty just then — when the outer 
door swung back, and a slight, girlish figure entered, 
after a pause of indecision on the threshold. It was Ma- 
tilda. 

Had she come to break it off — to reproach him ? He 
was prepared for no less ; she had never paid him a visit 
like this alone before ; and some doubts of the propriety 


6o 


l^HE TINTED VENUS. 


of the thing seemed to be troubling her now, for she did 
not speak. 

“ Matilda,” he faltered, “don’t tell me you have come in 
a spirit of unpleasantness, for I can’t bear it.” 

“ Don’t you deserve that I should ? ” she said, but not 
angrily. “You know, you were very strange in behaving 
as you did last night. I couldn’t tell what to make of it.” 

“ I know,” he said, confusedly ; “ it was something come 
over me, all of a sudden like. I can’t understand what 
made me like that ; but, oh, Tillie, my dearest love, my 
’art was busting with adoration all the time ! The circum- 
stances was highly peculiar; but I don’t know that I could 
explain them.” 

“ You needn’t, Leander ; I have found you out.” She 
said this with a strange significance. 

“What! ” he almost shrieked. “You don’t mean it, Ma- 
tilda ! Tell me, quick ! has the discovery changed your 
feelings toward me ? Has it ? ” 

“Yes,” she said, softly; “I — I think it has; but you 
ought not to have done it, Leander.” 

“I know,” he groaned, “I was a fool, Tillie ; a fool ! 
But I may get out of it yet,” he added. “ I can get her to 
let me off. I must — I will ! ” 

Matilda opened her eyes. “But, Leander dear, listen ; 
don’t be so hasty. I never said I wanted her to let you off, 
did I?” 

He looked at her in a dazed manner. “ I rather thought,” 
he said, slowly, “ that it might have put you out a little. 
I see I was mistook.” 

“ You might have known that I should be more pleased 
than angry, I should think,” said Matilda. 

“More pleased than — ^ I might have known!” ex- 
claimed the bewildered man. “ Oh, you can’t reelly be 
taking it as cool as this ! Will you kindly inform me what 
it is you’re alludin’ to in this way ? ” 

“ What is the use of pretending? You know I know. 
And it is colder, much colder, this morning. I felt it di- 
rectly I got up.” 

“Quite a change in the weather, I’m sure,” he said, 
mechanically; “ it feels like a frost coming on.” (“Has 
Matilda looked in to tell me the weather’s changed ? ” he 
was wondering within himself. “ Either I’m mad, or Ma- 
tilda is.”) 

“You dear old goose!” said Matilda, with an unusual 
effusiveness ; “ you shan’t tease me like this ! Do you 


7'HE TJNl'EJ) I 'HNUS. 


Ci 

think I’ve no eyes and no feelings ? Any girl, ! don’t care 
how proud or offended, would come round, on such proof 
of devotedness as I’ve had this evening. When I saw it 
gone, I felt 1 must come straight in and thank you, and 
tell you I shouldn’t think any more of last night. I 
couldn’t stop myself.” 

^‘When you saw what gone ?” cried the hairdresser, rub- 
bing up his hair. 

“ The cloak,” said Matilda; and then, as she saw his' ex- 
pression, her own changed. “ Leander Tweddle,” she 
asked, in a dry, hard voice, “have I been making a 
wretched fool of myself ? Didii't you buy that cloak ? ” 

He understood at last. He had gone to Miss Twilling’s 
chiefly because he was in a hurry and it was close by, and 
he knew nowhere else where he could be sure of getting 
what he required. Now, by some supreme stroke of the 
ill-luck which seemed to be pursuing him of late, he had 
unwittingly purchased the identical garment on which 
Matilda had fixed her affections ! How was he to notice 
that they took it out of the window for him ? 

All this flashed across him as he replied, “Yes, yes. Til- 
lie, I did buy a cloak there ; but are you sure it was the 
same you told me about ? ” 

“ Do you think a woman doesn’t know the look of a 
thing like that, when it’s taken her fancy ? ” said Matilda. 
“ Why, I could tell you every clasp and tassel on that 
cloak ; it wasn’t one you’d see every day, and I knew it 
was gone the moment I passed the window. It quite up- 
set me, for I’d set my heart on it so : and I ran in to see 
Miss Twilling and asked her what had become of it ; and 
when she said she’d sold it that morning, I thought I 
should have fainted. You see, it’never struck me that it 
could be you ; for how could I dream that you’d be clever 
enough to go and choose the very one ? Leander, it ivas 
clever of you ! ” 

“Yes,” he said, with a bitter rail against himself, “ I’m a 
clever chap, I am ! But how did you find out ? ” 

“ Oh, I made Miss Twilling (I often get little things 
there), I made her describe who she sold it to, and she said 
she thought it was to a gentleman in the haircutting per- 
suasion who lived near ; and then, of course, I guessed 
who bought it.” 

“ Tillie,” gasped Leander, “ I — I didn’t mean you to 
guess ; the purpose for which I require that cloak is my 
secret.” 


62 


THE TINTED PENDS. 


“ Oh, you silly man, when Fve guessed it ! And I take 
it just as kind of you as if it was to be all a surprise. I 
was wishing as I came along I could afford to buy it at 
once, it struck so cold coming out of our place ; and 
you had actually bought it for me all the time ! Thank 
you ever so much, Leander dear !” 

He had only to accept the position ; and he did. “ I’m 
glad you’re pleased,” he said ; “ I intended it as a sur- 
prise.” 

“And I am surprised,” said Matilda ; “because, do you 
know, last night, when I went home, I was feeling very 
cross with you ? I kept thinking that perhaps you didn’t 
care for me any more, and were trying to break it off ; 
and, oh, all sorts of horrid things I kept thinking! And 
aunt gave me a message for you this morning, and I was 
so out of temper I wouldn’t leave it. And now to find 
you’ve been so kind 1 ” 

She stretched out her hand to him across the counter, 
and he took and held it tight ; he had never seen her look- 
ing sweeter, nor feltf that she was half so dear to him. 
After all, his blunder had brought them together again, 
and he was grateful to it. 

At last Matilda said, “You were quite right about this 
wrapper, Leander; it’s not half warm enough for a night 
light this. I’m really afraid to go home in it.” 

He knew well enough what she intended him to do ; but 
just then he dared not appear to understand. “It isn’t 
far, only to Millman Street,” he said ; “and you must walk 
fast, Tillie. I wish I could leave the shop and come too.” 

“ You want me to ask you downright,” she said, pouting. 
“You men can’t even be kind prettily. Don’t you want to 
see how I look in your cloak, Leander ?” 

What could he say after that ? He must run upstairs, 
deprive the goddess of her mantle, and hand it over to 
Matilda. She had evidently made up her mind to have 
that particular cloak, and he must buy the statue another. 
It would be expensive ; but there was no help for it. 

“Certainly,” he said, “you shall have it now, dearest, 
if you’d like to. I’ll run up and fetch it down, if you’ll 
wait.” 

He rushed upstairs, two steps at a time, and, flinging 
open the door of a cupboard, began desperately to uncloak 
his Aphrodite. She was lifeless still, which he considered 
fortunate. 

But the goddess seemed to have a natural propensity to 


THE TINTED VENDS. 


63 


retain any form of portable property. One of her arms 
was so placed that, tug and stretch as he would, Leander 
could not get the cloak from her shoulders, and his efforts 
only broke one of the oxydized silver fastenings, and tore 
part of the squirrel’s-fur lining. 

It was useless, and with a damp forehead he came down 
again to his expectant fiancee. 

“ Why, you haven’t got it, after all ! ” she cried, her face 
falling. 

“ Tillie, my own dear girl,” he said, “ I’m uncommon 
sorry, upon my soul I am, but you can’t have that cloak 
this evening.” 

“ But why, Leander, why ?” 

^‘Because one of the clasps is broke. It must be sent 
back to be repaired.” 

“ I don’t mind that. Let me have it just as it is.” 

“ And the lining’s torn. No, Matilda, I shan’t make you 
a present of a damaged article. I shall send it back. They 
must change it for me.” (“ Then,” he thought, “ I can buy 
my Matilda another.”) 

“I don’t care for any other but that,” she said; “and 
you can’t match it.” 

“ Oh, Lor ! ” he thought, “and she knows every inch of 
it. The goddess must give it up ; it’ll be all the same to 
/ler. Very well, then, dearest, s/ia// have that, but not 
till it’s done up. I must have my way in this ; and as 
soon as ev^er I can I’ll bring it round.” 

“Leander, could you bring it me by Sunday,” she said, 
eagerly, “ when you come ? ” 

“ Why Sunday ? ” he asked. 

“ Because — oh, that was the message your aunt asked 
me to bring you ; it was in a note, but I’ve lost it. She 
told me what was inside, though, and it’s this. • Will you 
give her the pleasure of your company at her mid-day 
dinner at two o’clock, to be introduced to mamma ? 
And she said you were to be sure and not forget her 
ring.” 

He tottered for a moment. The ring! Yes, there was 
that to be got off, too, besides the cloak. 

“ Haven’t you got the ring from Vidler’s yet ? ” she said. 
“ He’s had it such a time.” 

He had told her where he had left it for alterations. 
“Yes,” he said, “he has had it a time. It’s disgraceful the 
way old Vidler potters and potters. I shall go round and 
’urry him up. I won’t stand it any longer.” 


64 


THE TINTED TENDS. 


Here a customer came in, and Matilda slipped away 
with a hurried good-bye. 

“ I’ve got till Sunday to get straight,” the hair-dresser 
thought, as he attended on the new-comer, “the best part 
of the week ; surely I can talk that Venus over by that 
time.” 

When he'was alone he went up to see her, without los- 
ing a moment. He must have left the door unlocked in 
his haste, for she was standing before the low chimney- 
glass, regarding herself intently. As he came in she 
turned. 

“Who has done all this?” she demanded. “ Tell me, 
was it you ? ” 

“I did take the liberty, mum,” he faltered, guiltily. 

“ You have done well,” she said, graciously. With rev- 
erent arid loving care have you imparted hues as of life to 
these cheeks, and decked my image in robes of costly 
skins.” 

“ Don’t name it, mum,” he said. 

“ But what are these ?” she continued, raising a hand to 
the light ringlets on her brow. “ I like them not — they 
are unseemly. The waving lines parted by the bold 
chisel of a Grecian sculptor resemble my ambrosial 
tresses more nearly than this abomination.” 

“You may go all over London,” said Leander, “and 
you won’t find a coiffure, though I say it, to set closer and 
defy detection more naturally than the one you’ve got on ; 
selected from the best imported foreign hair in the mar- 
ket, I do assure you.” 

“ I accept the offering for the spirit in which it was pre- 
sented, though I approve of it not otherwise.” 

“ You’ll find it will wear very comfortable,” said Lean- 
der ; “ but that cloak, now I come to see it on, it really is 
most unworthy of you, a very inferior piece of goods, and 
if you’ll allow me I’ll change it,” and he gently extended 
his hand to draw it off. 

“Touch it not,” said the goddess; “'for, having once 
been placed upon my effigy, it is consecrated to my ser- 
vice.” 

“ For mercy’s sake, let me get another one — one with 
more style about it ! ” he entreated ; “ my credit hangs on 
it.” 

“I am content,” she said, “more than content. No 
more words — I retain it. And you have pleased me by 
This conduct, my hair-dresser. Unknown it may be, even 


THE TINTED VENUS. 


65 


to yourself, your heart is warming in the sunshine of my 
favor ; you are coy and wayward, but you are yielding. 
Though pent in this form, carved by a mortal hand, I 
shall prevail in the end. I shall have you for my own.” 

He rumpled his hair wildly : “ ’ Orrid obstinate these 
goddesses are,” he thought. “ What am I to say to Ma- 
tilda now ? If I could only find a way of getting this statue 
shut up somewhere where she couldn’t com^ and bother 
me. I’d take my chance of the rest. I can’t go on with 
this sort of thing every evening. I’m sick and tired of it.” 

Then something occurred to him. “ Could I delude her 
into it ?” he asked himself. “She’s soft enough in some 
things, and for all she’s a goddess, she don’t seem up to 
our London ways yet. I’ll have a try, anyway.” 

So he began : “ Didn’t I understand you to observe, 
mum, some time back, that the pidgings and sparrers were 
your birds ? ” 

“ They are mine,” she said, “ or they were mine in days 
that are past.” 

“ Well,” he said, “ there’s a place close by, with railings 
in front of it, and steps and pillars as you go in, and if you 
like to go and look in the yard there you’ll find pidgings 
enough to set you up again. I shouldn’t wonder if they’ve 
been keeping them for you all this time.” 

“ They shall not lose by it,” she said. “ Go thither, and 
bring me my birds.” 

“ I think,” he said, “ it would be better if you’d go your-, 
self ; they don’t know me at the British Museum. But if 
you was to go to the beadle at the lodge and demand 
them. I’ve no doubt you’d be attended to ; and you’ll see 
some parties at the gates in long coats and black cloth 
’elmets, which if you ask them to ketch you a few sparrers, 
they’ll probably be most happy to oblige.” 

“ My beloved birds,” she said, “ I have been absent 
from them so long. Yes, I will go ; tell me where ? ” 

He got his hat, and went with her to a corner of Blooms- 
bury Square, from which they could see the railings 
fronting the Museum in the steel-tinted haze of electric 
light. 

“ That’s the place,” he said ; “keeps its own moonshine, 
you see. Go straight in and tell ’em you’re come to fetch 
your doves.” 

“ I will do so,” she said, and strolled off in imperious 
majesty. 

He looked after her with an irrepressible chuckle. 

5 


66 


THE TINTED VENDS. 


“If she ain't locked up soon, I don’t know myself,” he 
said, and went back to his establishment. 

He had only just dismissed his apprentice and secured 
the shop for the night, when he heard the well-known 
tread up his' staircase. “ Back again ! I don’t have any 
luck,” he muttered ! and with reason, for the statue, wear- 
ing an expression of cold displeasure, advanced into the 
room. He fglt a certain sense of guilt as he saw her. 

“ Got the birds ?” he inquired, with a nervous familiarity, 
“ or couldn’t you bring yourself to ask for them ? ” 

“You have misled me,” she said; “my birds, are not 
there. I came to gates in front of a stately pile — doubtless 
erected to some god ; at the entrance stood a priest, burly 

and strong, with gold-embroidered garments ” 

(“ The beadle, I suppose,” commented Leander.) 

“ I passed him unseen, and roamed unhindered over the 
courtyard. It was bare, save for one or two worshippers 
who crossed it. Presently a winged thing fluttered down 
to my feet. But though a dove indeed, it was no bird of 
mine — it knew me not. And it was draggled, begrimed, 
uncleanly, as never were the doves of Aphrodite. And the 
sparrows (for these, too, did I see) they were worse. I mo- 
tioned them from me with loathing. I renounced them all. 
Thus, Leander, have I fared in following your counsels ! ” 
“Well, it ain’t my fault,” he said ; “it’s the London soot 
makes them like that. There’s some at the Guildhall ; 
perhaps they’re cleaner.” 

“No,” she said, vehemently ; “ I will seek no further. 
This is a city of darkness and filth. I am in a land, an age, 
which know me not: this much have I learned already. 
The world was fairer and brighter of old ! ” 

“ You see,” said Leander, “ if you only go about at night, 
you can’t expect sunshine ! But I’m told there’s cleaner 
and brighter places to be seen abroad ; if you cared to go 
there ? ” he insinuated. 

“ To one place only, to my Cyprian caves, will I go,” she 
declared, “ and with you ! ” 

“We’ll talk about that some other time,” he answered, 
soothingly. “ Lady Venus, look here, don’t you think 
you’ve kept that ring long enough ? I’ve asked you civilly 
enough, goodness knows, to ’and it over, times without 
number. I ask you once more to act fair. You know it 
came to you quite accidental, and yet you want to take 
advantage of it like this. It ain’t right ! ” 

She met this with her usual scornful smile. “ Listen, 


THE TINTED VENUS. 


67 


Leander,” she said : “ Once before — how long since I know 
not — a mortal, in sport or accident, placed his ring as you 
have done upon the finger of a statue erected to me. I 
claimed fulfilment of the pledge then, as now ; but a force 
I could not withstand was invoked against me, and I was 
made to give up the ring, and with it the power and rights 
I strove to exert. But I will not again be thwarted ; no 
force, no being shall snatch you from me ; so be not de- 
ceived. Submit ere you excite my fierce displeasure ; sub- 
mit now, since in the end submit you must ! ” 

There was a dreadful force in the sonorous tones which 
made him shiver ; a rigid, inflexible will lurked in this form, 
with all its subtle curves and feminine grace. If god- 
desses really retained any power in these days, there could 
be no doubt that she would use hers to the full. 

Yet he still struggled. “ I can’t make you give up the 
ring,” he said, “ but no more you can’t make me leave my — 
my establishment, and go away underground with you. I'm 
an Englishman, I am ; and Englishmen are free, mum ; 
praps you wasn’t aware of that ? I’ve got a will of my own, 
and so you’ll find it !” 

“ Poor worm,” she said, pityingly (and the hair-dresser 
hated to be addressed as a poor worm), “ why oppose thy 
weak will to mine ? Why enlist my pride against thyself ; 
for what hast thou of thine own to render thy conquest de- 
sirable ? Thou art bent upon defiance, it seems. I leave 
thee to reflect if such a combat can be equal. Farewell ; 
and at my next coming let me find a change !” 

And the spirit of the goddess fled, as before, to the 
mysterious realms from which she had been so incautiously 
evoked, leaving Leander almost frantic, with rage, super- 
stitious terror, and baffled purposes. 

“ I must get the ring off,” he muttered, and the cloak, 
somehow. Oh! if I only could find put how — There 
was that other chap — he got it off, she said as much. If I 
could get out how he managed it, why couldn’t I do the 
same ? But who’s to tell me ? She won’t — not if she knows 
it ! I wonder if it’s in any history ? Old Freemoult would 
know it if it was — he’s such a scholar. Why, he gave me a 
name for that ’airwash without having to think twice over 
it ! I’ll try and pump old Freemoult. I’ll do it to-morrow 
too. I’ll see if I’m to be domineered over by a image out 
of a tea-garden. Eh ? I^I don’t care if she did hear me !” 

So Leander went to his troubled pillow, full of this new 
resolution, which seemed to promise a way of escape. 


68 


THE TINTED VENUS, 


CHAPTER VIII. 

BETWEEN THE DEVIL AND THE DEEP SEA. 

Some, when they take Revenge, are desirous the party should know 
whence it cometh : This is the more generous.” — Bacon. 

In the Tottenham Court Road was a certain Commercial 
Dining-room where Leander occasionally took his evening 
meal, after the conclusion of his day’s work, and where Mr. 
Freemoult was accustomed to take his supper, on leaving 
the British Museum Library. 

To this eating-house Leander repaired the very next 
evening, urged by a consuming desire to learn the full par- 
ticulars of the adventure which his prototype in misfortune 
had met with. 

It was an unpretending little place, with the bill of fare 
wafered to the door, and red curtains in the windows, set- 
ting off a display of joints, cauliflowers, and red herrings. 
He passed through into a long, low room, with dark-brown, 
grained walls, partitioned off in the usual manner ; and 
taking a seat in a box facing the door, he ordered dinner 
from one of the shirt-sleeved attendants. 

The first glance had told him that the man he wished to 
see was not there, but he knew he must come in before 
long ; and, in fact, before Leander’s food could be brought, 
the old scholar made his appearance. 

He was hardly a man of attractive exterior, being of a 
yellow complexion, with a stubbly chin, and lank iron-gray 
locks. He wore a tall and superannuated hat with a star- 
ing nap, and the pockets of his baggy coat bulged with 
documents. Altogether, he did not seem exactly the per- 
son to be an authority on the subject of Venus. 

But as the hair-dresser was aware, he had the reputation 
of being a mine of curious and out-of-the-way information, 
though few thought it worth their while to work him. He 
gained a living, however, by hackwork of various descrip- 
tions, and was in slightly better circumstances than he al- 
lowed to appear. 

As he passed slovyly along the central passage, in his 
usual state of abstraction, Leander touched him eagerly 
on the sleeve. Come in ’ere, Mr. Freemoult, sir,” he said ; 
“ there’s room in this box.” 


THE TINTED VENUS. 6o 

“It’s the barber, is it?” said the old man. “What do 
you want me to eat with you for, eh ?” 

“ Why, for the pleasure of your company, sir, of course,” 
said Leander, politely. 

“ Well,” said the old gentleman, sitting down, while doc- 
uments bristled out of him in all directions, “there are 
not many who would say that — not many now.” 

“ Don’t you say so, Mr. Freemoult, sir. I’m sure it’s a 
benefit, if only for your conversation. I often say, ‘ I never 
meet Mr. Freemoult without I learn somethink ;’ I do in- 
deed !” 

“Then we must have met less often than I had imagined.” 

“Now, you’re too modest, sir; you really are — a scholar 
like you, too ! Talking of scholarship, you’ll be gratified 
to hear that that title you were good enough to suggest for 
the ‘ Regenerator ’ is having quite a surprising sale. I dis- 
posed of five bottles over the counter only yesterday.” 
(“These old scholars,” was his wily reflection, “ like being 
flattered up.”) 

“ Does that mean you’ve another beastly bottle you want 
me to stand godfather to? ’’growled the ungrateful old 
gentleman. 

“ Oh, no, indeed, sir! It’s only — But p’r’aps 'you’ll 
allow me previously the honor of sending out for whatever 
beverage you was thinking of washing down your boiled 
beef with, sir.” 

“ Do you know who I am?” Mr. Freemoult burst out. 
“ I’m a scholar, and gentleman enough still to drink at my 
own expense ! ” 

“ I intended no offence. I’m sure, sir , it was only meant 
in a friendly way.” 

“That is the offence, sir ; that is the offence 1 But, there, 
we’ll say no more about it ; you c^n’t help your profession, 
and I can’t help my prejudices. What was it you wanted 
to ask me ? ” 

“Well,” said Leander, “ I was desirous of getting some 
information respecting — ahem — a party by the name of (if 
I’ve caught the foreign pronunciation) Haphrodite, other- 
wise known as Venus. Do you happen to have heard tell 
of her ? ” 

“ Have I had a classical education, sir, or haven’t I ? 
Heard of her ? of course I have ! But why, in the name 
of Mythology, any hair-dresser living should trouble his 
head about Aphrodite, passes my comprehension. Leave 
her alone, sir ! ” 


THE TINTED VENUS. 


“ It’s her who won’t leave 7ne alone ! ” thought Leander ; 
but he did not say so. “ I’ve a very particular reason for 
wishing to know ; and I’m sure if you could tell me all 
you’d heard about her, I’d take it very kind of you.” 

“ Want to pick my brains ; well, you wouldn’t be the 
first. But I am here, sir, to rest my brain and refresh my 
body, not to deliver peripatetic lectures to hair-dressers on 
Grecian mythology.” 

“ Well,” said Leanjder, “ I never meant you to give your 
information peripatetic : I’m willing to go as far as half- 
a-crown.” 

“ Conf — But, there, what’s, the good of being angry 
with you ? Is this the sort of thing you want for your 
half-crown ? — Aphrodite, a later form of the Assyrian 
Astarte ; the daughter, according to some theogonies, of 
Zeus and Dione ; others have it that she was the offspring 
of the foam of the sea, which gathered round the frag- 
ments of the mutilated Uranos- ” 

“ That don’t seem so likely, do it, sir ?” said Leander. 

“ If you are going to crop in with Idiotic remarks, I shall 
confine myself to my supper.” 

“Don’t stop, Mr. Freemoult, sir; it’s most instructive. 
I’m attending.’’ 

But the old gentleman, after a manner he had, was sunk 
in a dreamy abstraction for the moment, in which he ap- 
parently lost the thread, as he resumed, “Whereupon 
Zeus, to punish her, gave her in wedlock to his deformed 
son, Hephaestus.” 

“She never mentioned him to thought Leander; 
“but I suppose she’s a widow goddess by this time; I’m 
sure I hope so.” 

“Whom,” Mr. Freemoult was saying, “ she deceived upon 
several occasions, notably in the case of ” — and hern, he 
launched into a scandalous chronicle, which determined 
Leander more than ever that Matilda must never know he 
had entertained a personage with such a past. 

“Angered by her indiscretions, Zeus inspired her with 
love for a mortal man.” 

“ Poor devil ! ” said Leander, involuntarily. “ And what 
became of him, sir ? ” 

“ There were several thus distinguislied ; among 
others, Anchises, Adonis, and Cinyras. Of these, the first 
was struck by lightning ; the second slain by a wild boar ; 
and the third is reputed to have perished in a contest with 
Apollo.” 


THE TINTED VENUS. 


71 


“They don’t seem to iiave had no luck, any of them,” 
was Leander’s depressed conclusion. 

“Aphrodite, or Venus, as you choose to call her, took a 
prominent part in the Trojan war, the origin of which ten 
years’ struggle may be traced to a certain golden apple.” 

“What an old rag-bag it is !” thought Leander. “I’m 
only wasting money on him. He’s like a bran-pie at a 
fancy fair : what you get out of him is always the thing 
you didn’t want.” 

“No, no, Mr. Freemoult,” he said, with some impa- 
tience, “leave out about the war and the apple. It— it 
isn’t either of them as I wanted to hear about.” ' 

“ Then I have done,” said the old man, curtly; “you’ve 
had considerably more than half-a-crown’s worth, as it is.” 

“Look here, Mr. Freemoult,” said the reckless hair- 
dresser, “ if you can’t give me no better value, I don’t mind 
laying out another sixpence in questions.” 

“ Put your questions, then, by all means, and I’ll give 
you your fair sixpenn’orth of answers. Now, then. I’m 
ready for you. What’s your difficulty ? out with it.” 

. “ Why,” said Leander, in no small confusion, “ isn’t there 
a story somewhere of a statue to Venus as some young 
man (a long time back it was, of course) was said to have 
put his ring on ? and do you kUow the rights of it ? I — I 
can’t remember how it ended myself.” 

“Wait a bit, sir; I think I do remember something of 
the legend you refer to. You found it in \X\q Earthly Para- 
dise^ I make no doubt ? ” 

“I found it in Roserwich Gardens,” Leander very nearly 
blurted out ; but he stopped himself and said instead, “ I 
don’t think I’ve ever been there, sir ; not to remember it.” 

“Well, well ! you’re no lover of poetry, that’s very evi- 
dent ; but the story is there. Yes, yes ! and Burton has a 
version of it, too, in his Anatomy. How does it go? Give 
my head a minute to clear and I will tell you. Ha ! I have 
it ! It was something like this : There was a certain young 
gentleman of Rome who, on his wedding-day, went out to 
play tennis ; and in the tennis-court was a brass statue of 
the goddess Venus ” 

(“ Mine ought to be brass, from her goings on,” thought 
Leander.) 

“ And while he played he took off his finger-ring and put 
it upon the statue’s hand ; a mighty foolish act, as you will 
agree.” 

“Ah! ’’said Leander, shaking his head; “you may say 


72 


THE TINTED FENDS. 


that I What next, sir ?” He became excited to find that he 
really was on the right track at last. 

“ Why, when the game was over and he came to get his 
ring, he found he couldn’t get it off again. Ha ! ha ! ” and 
the old man chuckled softly, and then relapsed once more 
into silence. 

“Yes, yes, Mr. Freemoult, sir! I’m a-listening ; it’s very 
funny ; only do go on ! ” 

“Go on? Where was I? Hadn’t I finished? Ah, to 
be sure ! Well, so Paris gave Aer the apple, you see.” 

“ I didn’t understand you to allude to no apple,” said his 
puzzled hearer ; “ and it was at Rome, I thought, not Paris. 
— Bring your mind more to it, sir ; we’d got to the ring not 
coming off the statue.” 

“ I know, sir ; I know. My mind’s clear enough, let me 
tell you. That very night (as I was about to say, if you’d 
had patience to hear me (Venus stepped in and parted the 
unfortunate pair ” 

“ It was an apple just now, you aggravating old muddle 
’ed ! ” said Leander, internally. 

“Venus informed the young man that he had betrothed 
himself to her by that ring ” (“ Same game exactly,” 
thought the pupil), “ and — and, in short, she led him such 
a life for some nights, that he could bear it no longer. So 
at length he repaired to a certain mighty magician called 
— let me see, what was his name again ? It wasn’t Agrippa 
— was it Albertus ? Odd, it has escaped me for the mo- 
ment.” 

“ Never mind, sir ; call him Jones.” 

“ I will 'Call him Jones, sir ! I had it on my tongue 
— there, Ea/um^us Palumbus it was. Well, Palumbus told 
him the goddess would never cease to trouble him, unless 
he could get back the ring — unless he could get back the 
ring.” 

Leander’s heart began to beat high ; the solution of his 
difficulty was at hand. It was something to know for cer- 
tain that upon recovery of the ring the goddess’s power 
would be at an end. It only remained to find out how the 
other young man managed it. “Yes, Mr. Freemoult?” 
he said, interrogatively ; for the old gentleman had run 
down again. 

“ I was only thinking it out. To resume, then. No sooner 
had the magician (whose name I said was Apollonius) 
come to the wedding, than he promptly conjectured the 
bride to be a serpent ; whereupon she vanished inconti- 


THE TINTED VENUS. 


73 


nently, after the manner of serpents, with the house and 
furniture.” 

“ Haven’t you missed out a lot, sir ?” inquired Leander, 
deferentially, “because it don’t seem to me to hook on 
quite. What became of Venus and the ring ? ” 

“ How the dickens am I to tell you, if you will interrupt ? 
Ring ! IV/ia/ ring ? Why, yes ; the magician gave the young 
man a certain letter, and told him to go to a particular 
cross-road outside the city, at dead of night, and wait for 
Saturn to pass by in procession, with his fallen associates. 
This he did, and presented the magician’s letter ; which 
Saturn, after having read, called Venus to him, who was 
riding in front, and commanded her to deliver up the ring.” 

Here he stopped, as if he had nothing to add. 

“And did she, sir?^’ asked Leander, breathlessly. 

“ Did she what ? give up the ring ? Of course she did — 
haven’t I been saying so ? Why not ? ” 

“ Well,” observed Leander, “ so that’s how /le got out of 
it, was it ? Hah ! he was a lucky chap. Those were the 
days when magicians did a good trade, I suppose ? -Should 
you say there were any such parties now, on the quiet like, 
eh, sir ? ” 

“ Bah ! Magic is a lost art, degraded to dark seances 
and juvenile parties— the last magician dead for more than 
two hundred years. Don’t expose your ignorance, sir, by 
any more such questions.” 

“ No,” said Leander ; “ I thought as much. And so, if 
anyone was to get into such a fix nowadays — of course 
that’s only my talk, but if they did — there ain’t a practis- 
ing magician anywhere, to help him out of it. That’s your 
opinion, ain’t it, sir?” 

“ As the danger of such a contingency is not immediate,” 
was the reply, “ the want of a remedy need not, in my 
humble opinion, cause you any grave uneasiness.” 

“No,” agreed Leander, dejectedly; “I don’t care, of 
course. I was only thinking that, in case — but there, it’s 
no odds ! Well, Mr. Freemoult, you’ve told me what I was 
curious to know, and here’s your little honnyrarium, sir — 
two shillings and two sixpences, making three shillings in 
ail, pre-cisely.” 

“ Keep your money, sir,” said the old man, with con- 
temptuous good-humor ; “ my working hours are done for 
the day, and you’re welcome enough to any instruction 
you’re capable of receiving from my remarks. It’s not 
saying much, I dare say.” 


74 


THE TINTED VENUS. 


“ Oh, you told it very clear, considering, sir, Tm sure ! 
I don’t grudge it.” 

“Keep it, I tell you, and say no more about it.” 

So, expressing his thanks, Leander left the place ; and, 
when he was outside, felt more keenly than ever the blow 
his hopes had sustained. 

He knew the whole story of his predecessor in misfortune 
now, and, as a precedent, it was worse than useless. 

True, for an instant a wild idea had crossed his mind, of 
seeking some lonely suburban cross-road at dead of night, 
just to see if anything came of it. “The last time was 
several hundred years ago, it seems,” he told himself ; 
“ but there’s no saying that Satan mightn’t come by for all 
that. Here’s Venus persecuting as lively as ever, and I 
never heard the devil was dead. I’ve a good mind to take 
the tram to the Archway, and walk out till I find a likely- 
looking place.” 

But, on reflection, he gave this up. “ If he did come by, 
I couldn’t bring him a line — not even from the conjuror in 
High ’Oborn — and Satan might make me put my hand to 
something binding, and I shouldn’t be no better off.’ No ; 
I don’t see no way of getting back my ring and poor 
Tillie’s cloak, nor yet getting rid of that goddess, any more 
than before. There’s one comfort, I can’t be any worse off 
than I am.” 

Oppressed by these gloomy reflections, he returned to 
his home, expecting a renewal of his nightly persecution 
from the goddess ; but from some cause, into which he was 
too grateful to care to inquire, the statue that evening 
showed no sign of life in his presence, and after waiting 
with the cupboard open for some time in suspense, he 
ventured to make himself some coffee. 

He had scarcely tasted it, however, before he heard, 
from the passage below, a low whistle, followed by the 
peculiar stave by which a modern low-life Blondel endeav- 
ors to attract notice. The hair-dresser paid no attention, 
being used, as a Londoner, to hearing such signals, and 
not imagining they could be intended for his ear. 

But presently a handful of gravel rattled against his 
window, and the whistle was repeated. He went to the 
window cautiously, and looked out. Below were two in- 
dividuals, rather carefully muffled ; their faces, which were 
only indistinctly seen, were upturned to him. 

He retreated, trembling. He had had so much to think 
of lately, that the legal danger he was running by harbor- 


THE TINTED VENUS. 


75 


ing the detested statue was almost forgotten ; but now he 
remembered the inspector s words, and his legs bent be- 
neath him. Could these people be detectives ! 

“Is that Mr. Tweddle up there?” said a voice below; 
“ because if it is, he d better come down, double-quick, and 
let us in, that’s all ! ” 

“ ’Ere, don’t you skulk up there,” added a coarser voice ; 
“"we know ye’r there ; and if yer don’t come down to us, 
why, we’ll come up to you.” 

This brought Leander forward again. “Gentlemen,” 
he said, leaning out, and speaking in an agitated whisper, 
“for goodness’ sake, what do you want with me ?” 

“You let us in, and we’ll tell you.” 

“ Will it do if I come down and speak to you outside ? ” 
said Leander. 

There was a consultation between the two at this, and at 
the end of it, the first man* said : “ It’s all the same to us 
where we have our little confabulation. Come down, and 
look sharp about it ! ” 

Leander came down, taking care to shut the street 
door behind him. “ You ain’t the police ? ” he said, appre- 
hensively. 

They each took an arm, and walked him roughly off 
between them toward Queen Square. “We’ll show you 
who we are,” they said. 

“ I — I demand your authority for this,” gasped Leander. 
“What am I charged with ? ” 

They had brought him into the gloomiest part of the 
square, where the houses, used as offices in the daytime, 
were now dark and deserted. Here they jammed him up 
against the railings, and stood guard over him, while he 
was alarmed to perceive a suppressed ferocity in the faces 
of both. 

“ What are you charged with? Grr — ! For 'arf a pint 
I’d knock your bloomin’ ’ed in ! ” said the coarser gentle- 
man of the two — an evasive form of answer which did not 
seem to promise a pleasant interview. 

Leander was not naturally courageous, and what he had 
gone through lately had shaken his nerves. He thought 
that, for policemen, they showed too strong a personal feel- 
ing ; but who else could they be ? He could not remem- 
ber having seen either of them before. One was a tall, 
burly, heavy-jawed man ; the other smaller and slighter, 
and apparently the superior of the two in education and 
position. 


^6 


THE TINTED VENUS. 


“You don’t remember me, I see,” said the latter, and 
then suddenly changing his tone to a foreign accent, he 
said : “ Haf you been since to drink a glass of beer at your 
open-air gardens at Rosherwich ? ” 

Leander knew him then. It was his foreign customer of 
Monday evening ; his face was clean-shaven now, and his 
expression changed — not for the better. 

“ I think,” he said, faintly, “ I had the privilege of cut- 
ting your ’air the other evening.” 

“ You did, my friend, and I admired your taste for the 
fine arts. This gentleman and I have, on talking it over, 
been so struck by what I saw that evening, that we vent- 
ured to call and inquire into it.” 

“Look ’ere. Count,” said his companion, “there ain’t 
time for all that perliteness. You leave him to me ; /’// 
talk to liim ! Now then, you white-livered little airy- 
sneak, do you know who we are ? ” 

“No,” said Leander ; “and, excuse me calling of your 
attention to it, but you’re pinching my arm ! ” 

“ I’ll pinch it off before I’ve done,” said the burly man. 
“ Well, we’re the men that have planned and strived, 
and run all the risk, that you and your gang might cut in 
and carry off our honest earnings. You infernal little 
hair-cutting shrimp, you ! To think of being beaten by 
the likes of you ! It’s sickening, that’s what it is — sicken- 
ing ! ” 

“ I don’t understand you — as I live, gentlemen, I don’t 
understand you ! ” pleaded Leander. 

“You understand us well enough,” said the ex-foreigner, 
with an awful imprecation on all Leander’s salient feat- 
ures ; “but we shall have it all in black and white. We’re 
the party that invented and carried out that little job at 
Wricklesmarsh Court.” 

“ Burglars ! do you mean you’re burglars ? ” cried the 
terrified Leander. 

“We started as burglars, but we’ve finished by being 
made cat’s-paws of — by you, curse you ! You didn’t think 
we should find you out, did you ? But if you wanted to 
keep us in the dark, you made two awkward little slips ; 
one was leaving your name and address at the gardens as 
the party who was supposed to have last seen the statue, 
and the other was keeping the said statue standing about 
in your hair-cutting room, to meet the eye of any gentle- 
man calling out of curiosity, and never expecting such a 
find as that.” 


THE TINTED FENDS. 


77 


“What’s tlic g-ood of jawing at him, Count ? that won’t 
satisfy me, it won’t. ’Ere, 1 ean’t ’old myself off him any 
longer. I miis^ put a ’ed on him.” 

But the other interposed. “ Patience, my good Braddle ; 
no violence. Leave him to me ; he’s a devilish deep fel- 
low, and deserves all respect.” (Here he shook Leander 
like a rat.) “You’ve stolen a march on ns, you condemned 
little hair-dressing ape, you ! How did you do it ? Out 
with it ! How tlic devil did you do it ? ” 

“ For the love of heaven, gents,” pleaded Leander, with- 
out reflecting that he nnglit have found a stronger induce- 
ment, “don’t use violence ! How did I do what 2 ” 

“Count, I cant answer for myself,” said the man ad- 
dressed as Braddle. “ I shall send a bullet into him if you 
don’t let me work it off with fists ; I know I shall ! ” 

“ Keep quiet,” said his superior, sternly. “ Don’t you 
see r m quiet ?” and he twisted his knuckles viciously into 
Leander’s throat. “ Jf you call out, you’re a corpse !” 

“ I wasn’t thinking of calling out, indeed I wasn’t ; I’m 
quite satisfied with being where I am,” said Leander, “if 
you’d only leave me a little more room to choke in, and 
tell me what I’ve done to put you both in such tremenjous 
tempers.” 

“ Done ? you cur, when yer know well enough you’ve 
taken the bread out of our mouths, the bread we’d earned ! 
D’ye suppose we left out that statue in the gardens for the 
like of you ? Who put you up to it ? How many were 
there in it ? What do you mean to do now you’ve got it ? 
Speak out, or I swear I’ll cut your heart out and throw it 
ov^er the railings for the tom-cats ; I will, you ! ” 

The man called Braddle, as he uttered this threat, looked 
so very anxious to execute it that Leander gave himself 
up for lost. 

“ As true as I stand here, gentlemen, I didn’t steal that 
statue.” 

“ I doubt you’re not the build for taking the lead in that 
sort of thing,” said the Count, “but you'were in it ; you 
went down that Saturday as a blind. Deny it if you 
dare.” 

Leander did not dare. “I could not help myself, gen- 
tlemen,” he faltered. 

“ Who said you could ? And you can’t help yourself 
now, either ; so make a clean breast of it. Who are you 
standing in with ? Is- it Potter’s lot ?” 

If Leander had declared himself to be alone, things 


78 


THE TINTED FENDS. 


might have gone harder with him, and they certainly would 
never have believed him ; so he said it 7ms Potter’s lot 

“ I told you Potterwas after that marble, and you wouldn’t 
have it. Count,” growled Braddle. “ Now you’re satisfied.” 

The Count comprised Potter and his lot in a new and 
original malediction by way of answer, and then said to 
Leander, ‘‘ Did Potter tell you to let that Venus stand 
where all the world might see it ? ” 

“ I had no discretion,” said the hairdresser. “ I’m not 
responsible, indeed, gents.” 

“ No discretion ! I should think you hadn’t. Nor Pot- 
ter either, acting the dog in the manger like this. Where’ll 
Ai? find his market for it, eh ? What orders have you got ? 
When are you going to get it across ? ” 

“I’ve no notion. I haven’t received no directions,” 
said Leander. 

“A nice sort o’ mug you are to be trusted with a job 
like this,” said Braddle. “ I did think Potter was better 
up in his work, I did. A pretty bungle he’ll make of it ! ” 

“It would serve him right for interfering with brother- 
professionals in this infernal, unprincipled manner ; but he 
sha’n’t have the chance, Braddle, he sha’n’t have the chance; 
we’ll steal a march on him this time.” 

“ Is the coast clear yet ? ” said Braddle. 

“We must risk it. We shall find a route for it, never 
fear,” was the reply. “Now, you cursed hair-dresser, you 
listen to what I’m going to tell you. That Venus is our 

lawful property, and by , we mean to get her into our 

hands again ; d’ye hear that ? ” 

Leander heard, and with delight. So long as he could 
once get free from the presence of the statue, and out of 
the cross-fire of burglars and police, he was willing by this 
time to abandon the cloak and ring. 

“ I can truly say I hope you’ll be successful, gents,” he 
replied. 

“We don’t want your hopes, we want your help. You 
must round on Potter.” 

“ Must I, gents ?” said Leander. “Well, to oblige you, 
whatever it costs me, I 7vill round on Potter.” 

“ Take care you stick to that,” said Braddle. “ The next 
p’int, Count, is ’ow we’re to get her.” 

“Come in and take her away now,” said Leander, eager- 
ly. “She’ll be quiet. I — I mean the hmise'W be quiet 
now. You’ll be very welcome, I assure you; 1 won’t in- 
terfere.” 


THE TINTED VENUS. 


79 


“ You’re a bright chap to go in for a purfession like ours,” 
said Mr. Braddle, with intense disgust. “ How do yer sup- 
pose we’re to do it ; take her to pieces, eh, and bring her 
along in our pockets ? Do you think we’re flats enough 
to run the chance of being seen in the streets by a copper, 
lugging that ’ere statue along ? ” 

“We must have the light cart again and a sack,” said 
the Count. “ It’s too late to-night.” 

“ And it ain’t safe in the daytime,” said Braddle. “ We’re 
wanted for that job at Camberwell, that puts it on to-mor- 
row evening. But suppose Potter has fixed the same 
time ? ” 

“ Here, know. Has Potter fixed the same time?” 
the Count demanded from Leander. 

“ No,” said Leander ; “ Potter ain’t said nothing to me 
about moving her.” 

“ Then are you man enough to undertake Potter, if he 
starts the idea ? Are you ? Come ! ” 

“Yes, gents. I’ll manage Potter. You break in any time 
after midnight, and I engage you shall find the Venus on 
the premises.” 

“ But we want more than that of you, you know. We 
mustn’t lose any time over this job. You must be ready at 
the door to let us in, and bear a hand with her down to the 
cart.” 

But this did not suit Leander’s views at all. He was de- 
termined to avoid all personal risks ; and to be caught help- 
ing the burglars to carry off the Aphrodite would be fatal. 

He was recovering his presence of mind. As his tor- 
mentors had sensibly relaxed, he was able to take steps for 
his own security. 

“ I beg pardon, gents,” he said, “ but I don’t want to 
appear in this myself. There’s Potter, you see ; he’s a 
hawful man to go against. You know what Potter is your- 
selves.” (Potter was really coming in quite usefully, he 
began to think.) 

“Well, I don’t suppose Potter would make more bones 
about slitting your throat than we should if he knew you’d 
played him false,” said the Count. “ But we can’t help 
that ; in a place like this it’s too risky to break in when we 
can be let in.” 

“If you’ll only excuse me taking an active part,” said 
Leander, “ it’s all I ask. This is my plan, gentlemen. You 
see that little archway there, where my finger points ; well, 
that leads by a small alley to a yard back of my saloon.' 


8o 


THE TIN'J'ED VENUS. 


You can leave your cart here^and come round as safe as 
you please. I’ll have the window in my saloon unfastened, 
and put the statue where you can get her easy ; but I don’t 
want to be mixed up in it further than that.” 

“That seems fair enough,” said the Count, “provided 
you keep to it.” 

“But suppose it’s a plant ?” growled Braddle. “Sup- 
pose he’s planning to lay a trap for us ? Suppose we get 
in, to find Potter and his lot on the lookout for us, or break 
into a house that’s full of bloomin’ coppers ? ” 

“ I did not think of that ; but I believe our friend knows 
that if he doesn’t act square with me his life isn’t worth a 
bent pin ; and, besides, lie can’t warn the police without 
getting himself into more or less hot water. So I think 
he’ll see the wisdom of doing what he’s told.” 

“I do,” said Leander, “ I do, gentlemen. I’d sooner die 
than deceive you.” 

“Well,” said the Count, “you’d find it come to the same 
thing.” 

“ No,” added Braddle ; “if you blow the gaff on us, my 
bloomin’. I’ll saw that pudden head of yours right off your 
shoulders, and swing for it, cheerful !” 

Leander shuddered. Amongst what desperate ruffians 
had his unlucky stars led him ! How would it all end, he 
wondered feebly, how ? 

“Well, gentlemen,” he said, with his teeth chattering, 
“if you don’t want me any more. I’ll go in ; and I’m to ex- 
pect you to-morrow evening, I believe ?” 

“Expect us when you ’ear us,” said Braddle ; “and if 
you make fools of us again — ” and he described conse- 
quences which exceeded in unpleasantness the worst that 
Leander could have imagined. 

The poor man tottered back to his room again in a most 
unenviable frame of mind ; not even the prospect of being 
delivered from the goddess could reconcile him to the price 
he must pay for it. He was going to take a plunge into 
downright crime now ; and if his friend the inspector came 
to hear of it, ruin must follow. And, in any case, the cloak 
and the ring would be gone beyond recovery, while these 
cut-throat housebreakers would henceforth have a hold 
over him. They might insist upon steeping him in blacker 
crime still, and he knew he would never have the courage 
to resist. 

As he thought of the new difficulties and dangers that 
compassed him round about, he was frequently on the 


THE TINTED TENDS. 


8i 


verge of tears, and his couch that night was visited by 
dreadful dreams, in which he sought audience of the evil 
one himself at cross-roads, was chased over half London 
by police, and dragged over the other half by burglars, to 
be finally flattened by the fall of Aphrodite. 


CHAPTER IX. 

AT LAST ! 

“ Does not the stone rebuke me 
For being more stone than it ?” — IVinteTs Tale. 

“Yet did he loath to see the image fair, 

White and unchanged of face, unmoved of limb ! ” 

— Earthly Paradise. 

Leander’s hand was very tremulous all the next day, as 
several indignant clients discovered, and he. closed as early 
as he could, feeling it impossible to attend to business un- 
der the circumstances. 

About seven o’clock he went up to his sitting-room ; a 
difficult and ungrateful task was before him. To facilitate 
her removal he must persuade the goddess to take up a 
position in the saloon for the night ; and, much as he had 
suffered from her, there was something traitorous in de- 
ceiving her and delivering her over to these coarse bur- 
glars. 

He waited until the statue showed signs of returning 
animation, and then said, “ Good-evening, mum,” more 
obsequiously than usual. 

She never deigned to notice or return his salutations. 
“ Hair-dresser,” she said abruptly, I am weary of this sor- 
did place.” 

He was pleased, for it furthered his views. “ It isn’t so 
sordid in the saloon, where you stood the other evening, 
you know,” he replied. “Will you step down there ?” 

“ Bah ! ” she said, “ it is all sordid. Leander, a restless- 
ness has come upon me. I come back night after night 
out of the vagueness in Avhich I have lain so long, and for 
what ? To stand here in this mean chamber and proffer 
my favor, only to find it repulsed, disdained. I am tired 
of it — tired ! ” 

“You can’t be more tired of it than I am !” he said. 

6 


82 


THE TINTED VENUS. 


“I ask myself,” she went on, ‘'why, having, through 
your means, ascended once more to the earth, which I left 
so fair, I seek not those things which once delighted me. 
This city of yours — all that I have seen of it — revolts me ; 
but it is vast, vaster than those built by the mortals of old. 
Surely somewhere there must be brightness in it and 
beauty, and the color and harmony by which men knew 
once to delight the gods themselves : it cannot be that the 
gods of old are all forgotten ; surely, somewhere there yet 
lingers a little band of faithful ones, who have not turned 
from Aphrodite.” 

“I can’t say. I’m sure,” said Leander; “I could inquire 
for you.” 

“I myself will seek for them,” she said proudly. “I 
will go forth this very night.” 

Leander choked. “ To-night ! ” he cried. “ You ca7i't 
go to-night.” 

“You forget yourself,” she returned haughtily. 

“ If I let you go,” he said, hesitating, “will you promise 
faithfully to be back in half an hour ? ” 

“ Do you not yet understand that you have to do with a 
goddess — with Aphrodite herself ? ” she said. “ Who are 
you, to presume to fetter me by your restrictions ? Truly, 
the indulgence I have shown has turned your weak brain.” 

He put his back against the door ; he was afraid of the 
goddess, but he was still more afraid of the burglars’ ven- 
geance if they arrived to find the prize missing ! 

“ I’m sorry to disoblige a lady,” he said ; “ but you don’t 
go out of this house to-night.” 

In another minute he was lying in the fender amongst 
the fire-irons alone ! How it was done he was too stunned 
to remember ; but the godpess was gone. If she did not 
return by midnight, what would become of him ? If he 
had only been civil to her, she might have stayed ; but 
now she had abandoned him to certain destruction ! 

A kind of fatalistic stupor seized him. He would not 
run away — he would have to come home some time ; nor 
would he call in the police, for he had a very vivid recol- 
lection of Mr. Braddle’s threats in such a contingency. 

He went, instead, into the dark saloon, and sat down in 
a chair to wait. He wondered how he could explain the 
statue’s absence. If he told the burglars it had gone for a 
stroll, they would tear him limb from limb. “ I was so 
confounded artful about Potter,” he thought, bitterly, 
“ that they’ll never believe now I haven’t warned him ! ” 


THK TINTELT VENUS, 


83 


At every sound outside he shook like a leaf ; the quar- 
ters, as they sounded from the church clock, sank like cold 
weights into his heart “If only Venus would come back 
first,” he moaned ; but the statue never returned. 

At last he heard steps — muffled ones — on the paved alley 
outside. He had forgotten to leave the window unfast- 
ened after all, and he was too paralyzed to do it now ! 

The steps were in the little yard, or rather a sort of back 
area, underneath the window. “It may be only a con- 
stable,” he tried to say to himself ; but there is no mistak- 
ing the constabulary tread, which is not fairy-like, or even 
gentle, like that he heard. 

A low whistle destroyed his last hope. In a quite un- 
premeditated manner, he put out the gas and rolled under 
a leather divan which stood at the end of the room. He 
wished now, with all his heart, that he had run away while 
he had the chance ; but it was too late. 

“ I hope they’ll do it with a revolver, and not a knife,” 
he thought. “ Oh, my poor Matilda ! you little know 
what I’m going through just now, and what’ll be going 
through tne in another minute !” 

A hoarse voice under the window called out, “Twed- 
dle ! ” 

He lay still. “None o’ that, yer skulker; I know yer 
there ! ” said the voice again. “ Do yer want to give me 
the job o’ coming in after yer ? ” 

After all, Leander reflected, there was the window and 
a thick half-shutter between them. It might be best not 
to provoke Mr. Braddle at the outset. He came half out 
of his hiding-place. “ Is that you, Mr. Braddle ?” he quav- 
ered. 

“Ah !” said the voice, affirmatively ; “is this what you 
call being ready for us ? Why, the bloomin’ window ain’t 
even undone ! ” 

“ That’s what I’m here for,” said poor Leander. “ Is 
the — the other gentleman out there, too ? ” 

“ You mind your business ! You’ll find something the 
Count give me to bring yer ; I’ve put it on the window- 
sill out ’ere. And you obey borders next time, will 
yer ! ” 

The footsteps were heard retreating. Mr. Braddle was 
apparently going back to fetch his captain. Leander let 
down the shutter and opened the window ; he could not 
see, but he could feel a thick, rough bundle lying on the 
window-sill. 


84 - 77 //^ TINTED I'ENES. 

He drew this in, slammed down the window, and ran up 
the shutter in a second, before the two could have had 
time to discover him. 

“Now,” he thought, “I will run for it,” and he groped 
his way out of the dark saloon to the front shop, where he 
paused, and, taking a m'atch from his pocket, struck a 
light ; his parcel proved to be rough sackcloth, on the out- 
side of which a paper was pinned. 

Why did the Count write, when he was coming in di- 
rectly ? Curiosity made him linger even then to ascertain 
this. The paper contained a hasty scrawl in blue chalk. 
“ Not to-night” he read ; “ arrangements still uncomplete. Ex- 
pect us to-morrow night without fail, and see that everything is 

prepared. Cloth sent with this for packing goods. P laid 

up with professional accident, and safe for a week or two. You 
must have known this — why not say so last night ? No trifling, 
if you value life ! 

It was a reprieve — at the last moment ! He had a whole 
day before him for flight, and he fully intended to flee this 
time ; those hours of suspense in the saloon were too ter- 
rible to be gone through twice. 

But as he was turning out his cashbox, and about to 
go upstairs and collect a few necessaries, he heard a well- 
known tread outside ; he ran to the door, which he unfast- 
ened with trembling hands, and the statue, with the hood 
drawn closely round her strange, painted face, passed in 
without seeming to heed his presence. 

She had come back to him. Why should he run away 
now, when, if he waited one more night, he might be res- 
cued from one of his terrors by means of the other ? 

“Lady Venus!” he cried, hysterically; “oh! Lady 
Venus, mum, I thought you was gone forever ! ” 

“And you have grieved.^” she said, almost tenderly. 
“ You welcome my return with joy ! Know then, Lean- 
der, that I myself feel pleasure in returning, even to such 
a roof as this ; for little gladness have I had from my wan- 
derings. Upon no altar did I see my name shine, nor the 
perfumed flame flicker ; the Lydian measures were silent, 
and the praise of Cytherea. And everywhere I went, I 
found the same senseless troubled haste, and pale mean 
faces of men, and squalor, and tumult ; grace and joyous- 
ness have fled — even from your revelry ! But I have seen 
your new gods, and understand : for, all grimy and mis- 
shapened and uncouth are they as they stand in your open 
places and at the -corners of your streets. Zeus, what a 


THE TINTED VENDS. 




place must Olympus now be ! And can any men worship 
such monsters, and be gladsome ? ” 

Leander did not perceive the very natural mistake into 
which the goddess had fallen ; but the fact was, that she 
had come upon some of our justly renowned public stat- 
ues. 

“I’m sorry you haven’t enjoyed yourself, mum,’’ was all 
he could find to say. 

“Should I linger in such scenes were it not for you ? ” 
she cried reproachfully. “ How much longer will you re- 
pulse me ? ’’ 

“That depends on you, mum,’’ he ventured to observe. 

“Ah! you are cold!” she said reproachfully; “yet 
surely I am worthy of tlie adoration of the proudest mortal. 
Judge me not by this marble exterior, cunningl)" wrought 
though it be. Charms are mine, more dazzling than any 
your imagination can picture ; and could you surrender 
your being into my hands, I should be able to show my- 
self as I really am— supreme in loveliness and majest}' ! ” 

Unfortunately, the hair-dresser’s imagination was not his 
strongest point. He could not dissociate the goddess 
from the marble shape she had assumed, and that shape 
he was not sufficiently educated to admire ; he merely 
coughed now in a deferential manner. 

“ I perceive that I cannot move you,” she said ; “ men 
have grown strangely stubborn and impervious. I leave 
you, then, to your obstinac}’ — only take heed, lest you pro- 
voke me at last to wrath ; for my patience is well-nigh at 
an end ! ” 

And she was gone, and the bedizened statue stood there, 
staring hardly at him with the eyes his own hand had given 
her. 

“ This has been the most trying evening I’ve had yet,” 
he thought. “Thank my stars, if all goes well, I shall 
get rid of her by this time to-morrow! ” 

The next day passed uneventfully enough, though the 
unfortunate Leander’s apprehensions increased with every 
hour ; as before, he closed early, got his apprentice safely 
off the premises, and sat down to wait in his saloon. He 
knew that the statue (which he had concealed during the 
day behind a convenient curtain) would probably recover 
consciousness for some part of the evening, as it had rarely 
failed to do, and prudence urged him to keep an eye over * 
the proceedings of his tormentress. 

To his horror. Aphrodite’s first words, after awaking, 


86 


THE TINTED VENUS. 


expressed her intention of repeating the search for homage 
and beauty, which had been so unsuccessful the night be- 
fore ! 

“ Seek not to detain me, Leander,” she said ; “ for, god- 
dess as I am, I am drooping under this persistent obduracy. 
Somewhere beyond this murky labyrinth, it may be that I 
shall find a shrine where I am yet honored. I will go forth, 
and never rest till I have found it, and my troubled spirits 
are revived by the incense for which I have languished so 
long. I am weary of abasing myself to a contemptuous 
mortal, nor will I longei;; endure such indignity. Stand 
back, and open the gates for me ! Why do you not obey ? ” 

He knew now that to attempt force would be useless ; 
and yet if she left him this time, he must either abandon 
all that life held for him, and fly to distant parts from the 
burglars’ vengeance — or remain to meet a too probable 
doom ! 

He fell on his knees before her: ‘‘Oh, Lady Venus,” 
he entreated, “ don’t leave me ! I beg and implore you 
not to ! If you do, you will kill me ! I give you my hon- 
est word you will ! ” 

The statue’s face seemed irradiated by a sudden joy ; she 
paused, and glanced down with an approving smile upon 
the kneeling figure at her feet. 

“ Why did you not kneel to me before ? ” she said. 

“ Because I never thought of it,” said the hair-dresser, 
honestly ; “ but I’ll stay on my knees for hours, if only you 
won’t go ! ” 

“But what has made you thus eager, thus humble ? ” 
she said, half in wonder and half in suspicion. “ Can it 
be, that the spark I have sought to kindle in your breast 
is growing to a flame at last ? Leander, can this thing 
be?” 

He saw that she was gratified, that she desired to be as- 
sured that this was indeed so. 

“ I shouldn’t be surprised if something like that was go- 
ing on inside of me,” he said, encouragingly. 

“Answer me more frankly,” she said. “ Do you wish 
me to remain with you, because you have learned to love 
my presence ? ” 

It was a very embarrassing position for him. All de- 
pended upon his convincing the goddess of his dawning 
love, and yet, for the life of him, he could not force out the 
requisite tenderness ; his imagination was unequal to the 
task. 


THE TINl'ED VEiYUS. 


87 


Another and a more creditable feeling helped to tie his 
tongue — a sense of shame at employing such a subterfuge 
in order to betray the goddess into the lawless hands of 
these housebreakers. However, she must be induced to 
stay by some means. 

“ Well,” he said, sheepishly, “ you don’t give me a chance 
to love you, if you go wandering out every evening, do 
you ? ” 

She gave a low cry of triumph. “It has come,” she ex- 
claimed. “What are clouds of incense, flowers, and hom- 
age, to this ? Be of good heaj't, I will stay, Leander. 
Fear not, but speak the passion which consumes you ! ” 

He became alarmed. He was anxious not to commit 
himself, and yet employ the time until the burglars might 
be expected. 

“ The fact is,” he confessed, “it hasn’t gone so far as 
that yet — it’s beginning ; all it wants is time^ you know — 
time, and being let alone.” 

“ All time will be before us, when once your lips have 
pronounced the words of surrender, and our spirits are 
transported together to the enchanted isle.” 

“You talk about me going over to this isle — this Cy- 
prus,” he said ; “ but it’s a long journey, and I can’t afford 
it. How you come and go, I don’t know ; but I’ve not 
been brought up to it myself, /can’t flash across like a 
telegram ! ” 

“ Trust all to me,” she said; “is not your love strong 
enough for that ? ” 

“ Not quite yet,” he answered : “ it’s coming on. Only, 
you see, it’s a serious step to take, and I naturally wish to 
feel my way. I declare, the more I gaze upon the — the 
elegant form and figger which I see before me, the stronger 
and the more irresistible comes over me a burning desire 
to think the whole thing carefully over. And if you only 
allowed me a little longer to gaze (I’ve no time to myself 
except in the evenings), L don’t think it would be long be- 
fore this affair reached a ’appy termination — I don’t in- 
deed ! ” 

“Gaze, then,” she said, smiling; “gaze to your soul’s 
content.” 

“ I mean no offence,” he represented, having felt his way 
to a stroke of supreme cunning, “but when I feel there’s a 
goddess inside of this statue, I don’t know how it is ex- 
actly, but it puts me off. I can’t fix my thoughts ; the — 
the passion don’t ferment as it ought. If, supposing now, 


88 


THE TINTED VENDS. 


you was to withdraw yourself and leave me the statue ? I 
could gaze on it, and think of thee, and Cyprus, and all 
the rest of it, more comfortable, so to speak, than what I 
can when you’re animating of it, and making me that ner- 
vous, words can’t describe it ! ” 

He hardly dared to hope that so lame and transparent a 
device would succeed with her ; but, as he had previously 
found, there was a certain spice of credulity and simplic- 
ity in her nature, which made it possible to impose upon 
her, occasionally. 

“It may be so,” she said ; “ I overawe thee, perchance ?” 

“Very much so,” said he, promptly. “You don’t intend 
it, I know ; but it’s a fact.” 

“ I will leave you to meditate upon the charms so faintly 
shadowed in this image, remembering that whatever of 
loveliness you find herein will be multiplied ten thousand- 
fold in the actual Aphrodite ! Remain then, ponder and 
gaze — and love ! ” 

He waited for a little while after the statue was silent, 
and then took up the sacking left for him by Braddle ; 
twice he attempted to throw it over the marble, and twice 
he recoiled. “It’s no use,” he said, “ I can’t do it ; they 
must do it themselves ! ” 

He carefully unfastened the window at the back of his 
saloon and placing the statue in the centre of the floor, 
turned out the gas, and with a beating heart stole upstairs 
to his bedroom, wdiere (with his door bolted) he waited 
anxiously for the arrival of his dreaded deliverers. 

He scarcely knew how long he had been there, for a kind 
of waking dream had come upon him, in which he was 
providing the statue with light refreshment, in the shape 
of fancy pebbles and liquid cement, when the long, low 
whistle, faintly heard from the back of the house, brought 
him back to his full senses. 

The burglars had come ! He unbolted the door and 
stole out to the top of the crazy staircase, intending to rush 
back and bolt himself in if he heard steps ascending ; and 
for some minutes he strained his ears, without being able 
to catch a sound. 

At last he heard the muffled creak of the window, as it 
was thrown up ; they were coming in. Would they, or 
would they not, be inhuman enough to force him to assist 
them in the removal ? 

They were still in the saloon ; he heard them trampling 
about, moving the furniture with unnecessary violence, and 


THE TINTED VENUS. 


89 


addressing one another in tones that were not caressing. 
Now they were carrying the statue to the window ; he 
heard their laboring breath and groans of exertion under 
the burden. 

Another pause. He stole lower down the staircase, un- 
til he was outside his sitting-room, and could hear better. 
There ; that was the thud as they leapt out on the flagged 
yard. A second and heavier thud — the goddess ! How 
would they get her over the wall ? Had they brought 
steps, ropes, or what ? No matter ; they knew their own 
business, and were not likely to have forgotten anything. 
But how long they were about it ! Suppose a constable 
was to come by and see that cart ! 

There were sounds at last ; they were scaling the wall — 
floundering, apparently; and no wonder, with such a 
weight to hoist after them ! More thuds ; and then the 
steps of men staggering slowly, painfully away. The 
steps echoed louder from under the archway, and then 
died away in silence. 

Could they be really gone ? He dared not hope so, and 
remained shivering in his sitting-room for some minutes, 
until, gaining courage, he determined to go down and shut 
the window, to avoid any suspicion. Although now that 
the burglars were safely olf with their prize, even their 
capture could not implicate him. He rather hoped they 
would be caught ! 

He took a lighted candle and descended. As he entered 
the saloon, a gust from the open window blew out the 
light. He stood there in the dark and an icy draught ; 
and beginning to grope about in the dark for the matches, 
he brushed against something which was soft and had a 
cloth-like texture. “It’s Braddle ! ” he thought, and his 
blood ran cold ; “ or else the Count ! ” And he called 
them both respectfully. There was no reply ; and no 
sound of breathing, even. 

Ha ! here was a box of matches at last ! He struck a 
light in feverish haste, and lit the nearest gas-bracket. For 
an instant he could see nothing in the sudden glare ; but 
the next moment he fell back against the wall with a cry 
of horror and despair. 

For there in the centre of the disordered room, stood— 
not the Count, nor Braddle — but the statue, the mantle 
thrown back from her arms ; and those arms, and the folds 
of the marble drapery, spotted here and there with stains 
of dark crimson ! 


90 


THE TINTED VENUS. 


CHAPTER X. 

DAMOCLES DINES OUT. 

“To feed were best at home.” — Macbeth. 

As soon as Leander had recovered from the first shock 
of horror and disappointment, he set himself to efface the 
stains with which the statue and the oilcloth were liber- 
ally bespattered ; he was burning to find out what had hap- 
pened to make such desperadoes abandon their designs at 
the point of completion. 

They both seemed to have bled freely. Had they quar- 
relled, or what ? He went out into the yard with a hand- 
lamp, trembling lest he should come upon one or more 
corpses ; but the place was bare, and he then remembered 
having heard them stumble and flounder over the wall. 

He came back in utter bewilderment ; the statue, stand- 
ing calm and lifeless as he had himself placed it, could tell 
him nothing, and he went back to his bedroom full-of the 
vaguest fears. 

The next day was a Saturday, and he passed it in the 
state of continual apprehension which was becoming his 
normal condition : he expected every moment to see or 
hear from the baffled ruffians, who would, no doubt, con- 
sider him responsible for their failure ; but no word nor 
sign came from them, and the uncertainty drove him very 
near distraction. 

As the night approached, he almost welcomed it, as a 
time when the goddess herself would enlighten part of his 
ignorance, and he waited more impatiently than ever for 
her return. 

He was made to wait long that evening, until he almost 
began to think that the marble was deserted altogether ; 
but at length, as he watched, the statue gave a long, 
shuddering sigh, and seemed to gaze round the saloon with 
vacant eyes. 

“ Where am I ?” she murmured. “ All ! I remember ; 
Leander, while you slumbered, impious hands were laid 
upon this image !” 

“ Dear me, mum ; you don’t say so ! ” exclaimed Leander. 

“ It is the truth ! From afar I felt the indignity that 
was purposed, and hastened to protect my image, to find it 


7^11 R TIN 7' ED VEiVUS. 


91 


in the coarse grasp of godless outlaws. Leander, they 
were about to drag me away by force — away from thee ! ” 

“ I’m very sorry you should have been disturbed,” said 
Leander, and he certainly was. “ So you came back and 
caught them at it, did you ? And wh — what did you do to 
’em, if 1 may inquire ?” 

I know not,” she said simply. “ I caused them to be 
filled with mad fury, and they fell upon one another 
blindly, and fought like wild beasts around my image 
until strength failed them, and they sank to the ground ; 
and when they were able, the)" fled from my presence, and 
I saw them no more.” 

“You — you didn’t kill them outright, then?” said 
Leander, not feeling quite sure whether he would be glad 
or not to hear that they had forfeited their lives. 

“ They were unworthy of such a death,” she said, “ so I 
let them crawl away ; henceforth they will respect our 
images.” 

“ I should say they would, most likely, madam,” agreed 
Leander. “I do assure you, I’m almost glad of it myself 
— I am ; it served them both right.” 

A/most glad ! And do you not rejoice from your heart 
that I yet remain to you ? ” 

“Why,” said Leander, “ it is, in course, a most satis- 
factory and agreeable termination. I’m sure.” 

“Who knows whether, if this my image had once been 
removed from you, I could have found it in my power to 
return ? ” she said ; “ for, I ween, the power that is left me 
has limits. I might never have appeared to you again. 
Think of it, Leander.” 

“ I was thinking of it,” he replied ; “ it quite upsets me 
to think how near it was.” 

“You are moved ; you love me well, do you not, 
Leander?” 

“ Oh ! I suppose I do,” he said ; “ well enough.” 

“ Well enough to abandon this gross existence, and fly 
with me where none can separate us ? ” 

“ I never said nothing about that,” he answered. 

“ But yesternight and you confessed that you were 
yielding — that ere long I should prevail.” 

“So I am,” he said ; “but it will take me some time to 
yield thoroughly. You wouldn’t believe how slow I yield ; 
why, I haven’t hardly begun yet ! ” 

“ And how long a time will pass before you are fully 
prepared ? ” 


92 


THE TINTED VENUS, 


“ I’m afraid I can’t say, not exactly ; it may be a month, 
or it might only be a week ; or again it might be a year. 
I’m so dependent upon the weather. So, if you’re in any 
kind of a hurry, I couldn’t advise you, as a honest man, to 
wait for me.” 

“ I will not wait a year ! ” she said fiercely ; “ you mock 
me with such words. I tell you again that my forbearance 
will last but little longer. More of this laggard love, and 
I will shame you before your fellow-men as an ingrate and 
a dastard ! I will ; by my zone, I will ! ” 

“ Now, ma’am, you’re allowing yourself to get excited,” 
said Leander, soothingly. ‘‘ I wouldn’t talk about it no 
more this evening ; we shall do no good. I can’t arrange 
to go with you just yet, and there’s an end of it.” 

“You will find that that is not the end of it, clod-witted 
slave that you are ! ” 

“ Now, don’t call names — it’s beneath you.” 

“ Aye, indeed ! for are not you beneath me ? But for 
very shame I will not abandon what is justly mine ; nor 
shall you, wily and persuasive hair-dresser though you be, 
withstand my sovereign will with impunity ! ” 

“So you say, mum ! ” said Leander, with!;a touch of his 
native impertinence. 

“ As I say, I shall act ; but no more of this, or you will 
anger me, before the time. Let me depart ! ” 

“I’m not hindering you,” he said ; but she did not remain 
long enough to resent his words. He sat down with a 
groan. “ Whatever will become of me ?.” he soliloquized 
dismally. “She gets more pressing every evening, and 
she’s been taking to threatening dreadful of late. . . . 

If the Count and that Braddle ever come back now, it 
won’t be to take her off my hands ; it’ll more likely be to 
have my life for letting them into such a trap they’ll think 
it was some trick of mine, I shouldn’t wonder. . . . 

And to-morrow’s Sunday, and I’ve got to dine with aunt, 
and meet Matilda and her ma. A pretty state of mind I’m 
in for going out to dinner, after the awful week I’ve had 
of it! But there’ll be some comfort in seeing my darling 
Tillie again : she ain’t a statue, bless her!” 

“As for you, mum,” he said to the unconscious statue, 
as he rose and painfully toiled upstairs with it, “ I’m going 
to lock you up in your old quarters, where you can’t get 
out and do mischief. I do think I’m entitled to have my 
Sunday quiet.” 

He slept long and late that Sunday morning ; for he had 


THE TINTED FENDS, 


93 


been too pre-occupied for the last few days to make any 
arrangements for attending chapel with his Matilda, and 
he was in sore need of repose besides. So he rose just in 
time to swallow his coffee and array himself carefully for 
his aunt’s early dinner, leaving his two Sunday papery, the 
theatrical and the general organs, unread on the table. 

It was a foggy, dull day, and Millman Street, never a 
cheerful thoroughfare, looked gloomier than ever as he 
turned into it. But one of those dingy fronts held Ma- 
tilda, a circumstance which irradiated the "entire district 
for him. 

He had scarcely time to knock before the door was 
opened by Matilda in person. She looked more charming 
than ever, in a neat dark dress, with a little white collar 
and cuffs. Her hair was arranged in a new fashion, being 
banded by a neat braided tress across the crown ; and her 
gray eyes, usually serene and cold, were bright and eager. 

The hair-dresser felt his heart swell with love at the 
sight of her. What a lucky man he was, after all, to have 
such a girl as this to care for him — if he could keep her-— 
ah ! if he could only keep her ! 

“ I told your aunt /was going to open the door to you,” 
she said. “ I wanted — oh, Leander, you’ve not brought it 
after ail ! ” 

“ Meaning what, Tillie, my darling?” said Leander. 

“ Oh, you know — my cloak ! ” 

He had had so much to think about that he had really 
forgotten the cloak of late. 

“Well, no. I’ve not brought that — not th(^ cloak, Tilly,” 
he said slowly. 

“ What a time they are about it ! ” complained Matilda. 

“ You see,” exclaimed the poor man, “ when a cloak like 
that is damaged, it has to be sent back to the manufact- 
urers to be done, and they’ve so many things on their 
hands. I couldn’t promise that you’ll have that cloak — 
well, not this side of Christmas, at least.” 

“You must have been very rough with it then, Lean- 
der,” she remarked. 

“ I was,” he said ; “ I don’t know how I came to be so 
rough. You see it was trying to tear it off — ” But here 
he stopped. 

“ Trying to tear it off what ? ” 

“ Trying to tear it off nothing, but trying to tear the 
wrapper off it : it was so involved,” he added, “ with string 
and paper and that ; and I’m a clumsy, unlucky sort of 


94 


THE TINTED VENUS. 


chap, sweet one ; and I’m uncommon sorry about it, that 
I am ! ” 

“ Well, we won’t say any more about it,” said Matilda, 
softened by his contrition ; “ and I’m keeping you out in 
the passage all this time. Come in and be introduced to 
mamma ; she’s in the front parlor, waiting to make your 
acquaintance.” 

Mrs. Collum was a stout lady, with a thin voice. She 
struck a nameless fear into Leander’s soul, as he w’as led 
up to where she sat. He thought that she contained all 
the promise of a very terrible mother-in-law. 

“ This is Leander, mamma dear,” said Matilda, shyly and 
yet proudly. 

Her mother inspected him for a moment, an4 then half- 
closed her eyes. “ My daughter tells me that you carry 
on the occupation of a hair-dresser,” she said. 

“Quite correct, madam,” said Leander; “I do.” 

“ Ah ! well,” she said, with an unconcealed sigh, “ I could 
have wished to look higher than hair-dressing for my Ma- 
tilda ; but there are opportunities of doing good, even as a 
hair-dresser. I trust you are sensible of-that.” 

“ I try to do as little ’arm as I can,” he said feebly. 

“ If you do not do good, you must do harm,” she said, 
uncompromisingly. “You have it in your means to be an 
awakening influence. No one knows the power that a 
single serious hair-dresser might effect with worldly cus- 
tomers. Have you never thought of that ?” 

“ Well, I can’t say I have exactly,” he said ; “ and. I don’t 
see how.” ^ 

“ There are cheap and appropriate illuminated texts,” 
she said, “ to be had at so much a dozen ; you could hang 
them on your walls. There are tracts you procure by the 
hundred ; you could put them in the lining of hats as you 
hang them up ; you could wrap them round your — your 
bottles and pomatum-pots. You could drop a word in 
season in your customer’s ear as you bent over him. And 
you tell me you don’t see how ; you will not see, I fear, 
Mr. Tweddle.” 

“I’m afraid, mum,” he replied, “ my customers would 
consider I was taking liberties.” 

“And what of that, so long as you save them ?” 

“Well, you see, I shouldn’t — I should lose ’em ! And it’s 
not done in our profession ; and, to tell ypu the honest 
truth, I’m not given that way myself — not to the extent of 
tracks and suchlike, that is.” 


THE TINTED PENDS, 


95 


Matilda’s mother groaned ; it was hard to find a son-^- 
law with whom she had nothing in common, and who was 
a hair-dresser into the bargain. 

“Well, well,” she said, “we must expect crosses in this 
life ; though for my own daughter to lay this one upon me 
is — is — but I will not repine.” 

“I’m sorry you regard me in the light of a cross,” said 
Leander ; “ but, whether I’m a cross or a naught. I’m a re- 
spectable man ; and I love your daughter, mum, and I’m 
in a position to maintain her.” 

Leander hated to have to appear under false pretences, 
of which he had had more than enough of late. He was 
glad now to speak out plainly, particularly as he had no 
reason to fear this old woman. 

“Hush, Leander! Mamma didn’t mean to be unkind ; 
did you, mamma ? ” said Matilda. 

“I said what I felt,” she said; “we will not discuss it 
further. If, in time, I see reason for bestowing my bless- 
ing upon a choice which at present — but, no matter. If I 
see reason in time, I will not withhold it. I can hardly be 
expected to approve at present.” 

“ You shall take your own time, mum ; I won’t hurry 
you,” said Leander. “ Tillie is blessing enough for me — 
not but what I shall be glad to be on a pleasant footing 
with you. I’m sure, if you can bring yourself to it.” 

Before Mrs. Collum could reply, Miss Louisa Tweddle 
made an opportune appearance, to the relief of Matilda, 
in whom her mother’s attitude was causing some uneasiness. 

Miss Tweddle was a well-preserved little woman, with 
short, curly iron-gray hair and sharp features. In manner 
she was brisk, not to say chirpy, but she secreted senti- 
ment in large quantities. She was very far from the tra- 
ditional landlady, and where she lost lodgers occasionally, 
she retained friends. She regarded Mrs. Collum with 
something like reverence, as an acquaintance of her youth 
who had always occupied a superior social position, and 
she was proud, though somewhat guiltily so, that her fav- 
orite nephew should have succeeded in captivating the 
daughter of a dentist. 

She kissed Leander on both cheeks. He’s done the 
best of all my nephews, Mrs. Collum, ma’am,” she ex- 
plained, “ and he’s never caused me a moment’s anxiety 
since I first had the care of him, when he was first ap- 
prenticed to Catchpole’s in Holborn, and paid me for his 
board.” 


THE TINTED VENUS. 


96 • 

Well, well,” said Mrs. Collum, “I hope he never may 
cause anxiety to you, or to anyone.” 

“ ril answer for it, he won’t,” said his aunt. I wish 
you could see him dress a head of hair.” 

Mrs. Collum shut her eyes again. “ If at his age he has 
not acquired the necessary skill for his line in life,” she 
observed, it would be a very melancholy thing to reflect 
upon.” 

“ Yes, wouldn’t it ?” agreed Mrs. Tweddle ; “you say 
very truly, Mrs. Collum. But he’s got ideas and notions 
beyond what you’d expect in a hair-dresser — haven’t you, 
Leandy ? Tell Miss Collum’s dear ma about the new ma- 
chines you’ve invented for altering people’s hands and 
eyes and features.” 

“ I don’t care to be told,” the lady struck in. “ To my 
mind, it’s nothing less than sheer impiety to go improving 
the features we’ve been endowed with. We ought to be 
content as we are, and be thankful we’ve been sent into 
the world with any features at all. Those are my opin- 
ions ! ” 

“ Ah ! ” said the politic Leander, “ but some people are 
saved having resort to Art for improvement, and we 
oughtn’t to blame them as are less favored for trying to 
render themselves more agreeable as spectacles, ought 
we ? ” 

“And if everyone thought with you,” added his aunt, 
with distinctly inferior tact, “ where would your poor dear 
’usband have been, Mrs. Collum, ma’am?” 

“My dear husband was not on the same level — he was 
a medical man ; and, besides, though he replaced Nature 
in one of her departments, he had too much principle to 
imiiaie her. Had he been (or had I allowed him to be) 
less conscientious, his practice would have been largely 
extended ; but I can truthfully declare that not a sin- 
gle one of his false teeth were capable of deceiving for an 
instant. I hope,” she added to Leander, “you, in your 
own different way, are as scrupulous.” 

“AVhy, the fact is,” said Leander, whose professional 
susceptibilities were now aroused, “ I am essentially an 
artist. When I look around, I see that Nature out of its 
bounty has supplied me with a choice selection of patterns 
to follow, and I reproduce them as faithful as lies within 
my abilities. You may call it a fine thing to take a blank 
canvas, and represent the luxurious tresses and the bloom- 
ing hue of ’ealth upon it, and so do I ; but I call it a still 


THE TINTED VENDS. 


97 


higher and nobler act to produce a similar elfect upon the 
human ’ed ! ” 

“ Isn’t that a pretty speech for a young man like him — 
only twenty-seven — Mrs. Collum ?” exclaimed his admir- 
ing aunt. 

“You see, mamma dear,” pleaded Matilda, who saw that 
her parent remained unaffected, “ it isn’t as if Leandcr 
was in poor papa’s profession.” 

“ I hope, Matilda,” said the lady, sharply, “you are not 
going to pain me again by mentioning this young man 
and your departed father in the same breath, because I 
cannot bear it.” 

“ The old lady,” commented Leander here, “ don’t seem 
to take to me ! ” 

“I’m sure,” said Miss Tweddle, “ Leandy quite feels 
what an honor it is to him to look forward to such a con- 
nection as yours is. When I first heard of it, I said at 
once, ‘ Leandy, you can’t never mean it ; she won’t look 
at you ; it’s no use your asking her,’ I said. And I quite 
scolded myself for ever bringing them together ! ” 

Mrs. Collum seemed inclined to follow suit, but she re- 
strained herself. “Ah! well,” she observed, “my daugh- 
ter has chosen to take her own way, without consulting 
my prejudices ; all I hope is, that she may never repent 
it ! ” 

“Very handsomely said, ma’am,” chimed in Miss Twed- 
dle ; “and, if I know my nephew, repent it she never 
will ! ” 

Leander was looking rather miserable ; but Matilda put 
out her hand to him behind his aunt’s back, and their 
eyes and hands met, and he was happy again. 

“You must be wanting your dinner, Mrs. Collum,” his 
aunt proceeded and we are only waiting for another 
lady and gentleman to make up the party. I don’t know 
what’s made them so behindhand. I’m sure. He’s a very 
pleasant young man, and punctual to the second when he 
lodged with me. I happened to run across him up by 
Chancery Lane the other evening, and he said to me, in 
his funny way, ‘ I’ve been and gone and done it. Miss 
Tweddle, since I saw you. I’m a happy man ; and I’m 
thinking of bringing my young lady soon to introduce to 
you.’ So I asked them to come and take a bit of dinner 
with me to-day, and I told him two o’clock sharp. I’m 
sure. Ah ! there they are at last. That’s Mr. Jauncy’s 
knock, among a thousand ! ” 

7 


98 


THE TINTED FENDS. 

Leander started. “ Aunt ! ” he cried, “ you haven’t asked 
Jauncy here to-day?” 

“Yes, I did, Leandy. I knew you used to be friends 
when you were together here, and I thought hovk nice it 
would be for both your young ladies to make each other’s 
^acquaintance ; but I didn’t tell him anything. I meant it 
for a surprise ! ” 

And she bustled out to receive her guests, leaving Lean- 
der speechless. What if the new comers were to make 
some incautious reference to that pleasure party on Satur- 
day week ? Could he drop them a warning hint ? 

“ Don’t you like this Mr. Jauncy, Leander ? ” whispered 
Matilda, who had obseryed his ghastly expression. 

“ I like him well enough,” he returned, with an effort ; 
“ but I’d rather we had no third parties, I must say.” 

Here Mr. Jauncy came in alone. Miss Tweddle having 
retired to assist the lady to take off her bonnet. 

Leander went to meet him. “ James,” he said in an agi- 
tated whisper, “have you brought Bella ?” 

Jauncy nodded. “We were talking of you as we came 
along,” he said in the same tone, “ and I advise you to look 
out— she’s got her quills up, old chap ! ” 

“ What about ? ” murmured Leander. 

Mr. Jauncy’s grin was wider and more appreciative than 
ever as he replied, mysteriously, “ Rosherwich ! ” 

Leander would have liked to ask in what respect Miss 
Parkinson considered herself injured by the expedition to 
Rosherwich ; but, before he could do so, his aunt returned 
with the young lady in question. 

Bella was gorgeously dressed, and made her entrance 
with the stiffest possible dignity. “ Miss Parkinson, my 
dear,” said her hostess, “you mustn’t be made a stranger of. 
That lady sitting there on the sofa is Mrs. Collum, and 
this gentleman is a friend of yotir gentleman’s, and my 
nephew, Leandy.” 

“ Oh, thank you,” said Bella, “ but I’ve no occasion to 
be told Mr. Tweddle’s name ; we have met before — haven’t 
we, Mr. Tweddle ? ” 

He looked at her, and saw her brows clouded, and her 
. nose and mouth with a pinched look about them. She 
was annoyed with him evidently — but why ? 

“We have,” was all he could reply. 

“Why, how nice that is, to be sure!” exclaimed Ins 
aunt. “I might have thought of it, too, Mr. Jauncy and 
you being such friends and all. And p’r’aps you know this 


I'HK TINTED JTNDS. 


99 


lady, too — Miss Collum — as Leandy is keeping company 
along with ? ” 

Bella's expression changed to something blacker still. 
“ No,” she said, fixing her eyes on the still unconscious 
Leander. “ I made sure that Mr. Tweddle was courting a 
young lady, but — but — ^well, this ts a surprise, Mr. Tweddle ! 
You never told us of this when last we met. I shall have 
news for somebody ! ” 

“ Oh, but it’s only been arranged within the last month 
or two ! ” said Miss Tweddle. 

“ Considering we met so lately, he might have done us 
the compliment of mentioning it, I must say ! ” said Bella. 

“ I — I thought you knew,” stammered the hair-dresser ; 
“ I told ” 

“ No, you didn’t, excuse me ; oh, no, you didn’t, or some 
things would have happened differently ! It was the place 
and all that made you forget it, very likely ! ” 

“ When did you meet one another, and where was it. Miss 
Parkinson ? ” inquired Matilda, rather to include herself 
in the conversation than from any devouring curiosity. 

Leander struck in hoarsely. “We met,” he explained, 
“some time since, quite casual.” 

Bella’s eyes lit up with triumphant malice. “What!” 
she said, “ do you call yesterday week such a long while ? 
What a compliment that is, though ! And so he’s not even 
mentioned it to you, Miss Collum ? Dear me, I wonder 
what reasons he had for that, now ! ” 

“There’s nothing to wonder at,” said Leander; “my 
memory does play me tricks of that sort.” 

“ Ah 1 if it was only you it played tricks on ! There’s 
Miss Collum dying to know what it’s all about, I can see ! ” 

“ Indeed, Miss Parkinson, I’m nothing of the sort,” re- 
torted Matilda proudly. Privately her reflection was: 
“ She’s got a lovely gown on, but she’s a common girl, for 
all that ; and she’s trying to set me against Leander for 
some reason, and she sha’n’t do it ! ” 

“Well,” said Bella, “you’re a fortunate man, Mr. Twed- 
j die, that you are, in every way. I’m afraid I shouldn’t be 
so easy with my James.” 

“ There’s no need for being afraid about it,” her James 
put in ; “you aren’t ! ” 

“ I hope I haven’t as much cause, though,” she retorted. 

Leander listened to her malicious innuendo with a be- 
wildered agony. Why on earth was she making this dead 
set at liim ? She was amiable enough on Saturday week. 


lOO 


THE TINTED VENUS. 


It never occurred to him that his conduct to her sister 
could account for it, for liad he not told Ada straightfor- 
wardly how he was situated ? 

Fortunately dinner was announced to be ready just then, 
and Bella was silenced for the moment in the general 
movement to the next room. 

Leander took in Matilda’s mamma, who had been studi- 
ously abstracting herself from all surrounding objects for 
the last few minutes. “ That Bella is a downright basi- 
lisk;” he thought dismally as he led the way. Lord, how 
I do wish dinner was done ! ” 


CHAPTER XI. 

DENOUNCED. 

“ There’s a new foot on the floor, my friend ; 

And a new face at the door, my friend ; 

A new face at the door.” 

Leander sat at the head of the table as carver, having 
Mrs. Collum and Bella on his left, and James and Matilda 
opposite to them. 

James was the first to open conversation, by the remark 
to Mrs. Collum, across the table, that they were “having 
another dull Sunday.” 

“ That,” rejoined the uncompromising lady, “ seems to 
me a highly improper remark, sir.” 

“ My friend Jauncy,” explained Leander, in defence of 
his abashed companion, “ was not alluding to present com- 
pany, I’m sure. He meant the dullness outside — the fog, 
and so on.” 

“ I knew it,” she said ; “ and I repeat that it is improper 
and irreverent to speak of a dull Sunday in that tone of 
complaint. Haven’t we all the week to be lively in ? ” 

“And I’m sure, ma’am,” said Jauncy, recovering him- 
self, “you make the most of your time. Talking of fog, 
Tweddle, did you see those lines on it in to-day’s Umpired 
Very smart, I call them ; regular witty.” 

“And do you both read a paper on Sunday mornings 
with ‘smart’ and ‘witty’ lines in it?” demanded Mrs. 
Collum. 

“ I — I hadn’t time this morning,” said tlie unregenerate 


THE TINTED TENDS. 


lOI 


Leander ; “ but I do occasionally cast a eye over it before 
I get up.” 

Mrs. Collum groaned and looked at her daughter re- 
proachfully. 

“ I see by the Weekly News," said Jauncy, ‘‘ you’ve had 
a burglary in your neighborhood.” 

Leander let the carving-knife slip. ‘‘A burglary! 
What ! in my neighborhood ? When ? ” 

“Well, p’r’aps not a burglary ; but a capture of two that 
were ‘wanted ’ for it. It’s all in to-day’s News." 

“ I — I haven’t seen a paper for the last two days,” says 
Leander, his heart beating with hope ; “ tell us about 
it!” 

“Why, it isn’t much to tell ; but it seems that last Fri- 
day night, or early on Saturday morning, the constable on 
duty came upon two suspicious-looking chaps, propped up 
insensible against th^ railings in Queen Square, covered 
with blood and unable to account for themselves. Whether 
they’d been trying to break in somewhere and been beaten 
off, or had quarrelled, or met with some accident, doesn’t 
seem to be known for certain. But, anyway, they were ar- 
rested for loitering at night with housebreaking things 
about them, and, when they were got to the station, recog- 
nized as the men ‘ wanted ’ for shooting a policeman down 
at Walham Green some time back, and if it is proved 
against them they’ll be hung, for certain ! ” 

“ What were they called ? Did it say ? ” asked Leander, 
eagerly. 

“ I forget one — something like Bradawl, I believe ; the 
other had a lot of aliases, but he was best known as the 
‘ Count,’ from having lived a good deal abroad and speak- 
ing broken English like a native.” 

Meander’s spirits rose, in spite of his. present anxieties. 
He had been going in fear and dread of the revenge of 
these ruffians, and they were safely locked up : they could 
trouble him no more ! 

Small wonder, then, that his security in this respect made 
him better able to cope with minor dangers ; and Bella’s 
animosity seemed lulled, too — at least, she had not opened 
her mouth except for food since she sat down. 

In his expansion he gave himself the airs of a host. “ I 
hope,” he said, “ I’ve served you all to your likings ? Miss 
Parkinson, you’re not getting on ; allow me to offer you a 
little more pork ? ” 

“ Thank you, Mr. Tweddle,” said the implacable Bella, 


102 


THE TINTED TENDS. 


“but I wcn^t trouble you. I haven’t an appetite to-day — 
like I had at those gardens ! ” 

There was a challenge in this answer — not only to him, 
but to general curiosity — which, to her evident disappoint- 
ment, was not taken up. 

Leander turned to Jauncy. “ I— I suppose you had no 
trouble in finding your .way here ? ” he said. 

“No,” said Jauncy, “not more than usual; the streets 
were pretty full, and that makes it harder to get along.” 

“We met such quantities of soldiers!” put in Bella. 
“ Do you remember those two soldiers at Rosherwich, Mr. 
Tweddle ? How funny they did look, dancing ; didn’t they ? 
But 1 suppose I mustn’t say anything about the dancing 
here, must I ? ” 

“ Since,” said the poor, badgered man, “you put it to me, 
Miss Parkinson, I must say that, considering the you 
know ” 

“Yes,” continued Mrs. Collum, severely; “surely there 
are better topics for the Sabbath than — than a dancing 
soldier ! ” 

“ Mr. Tweddle knows why I stopped myself,” said Bella. 
“ But there, I won’t tell of you — not now, at all events ; so 
don’t look like that at me ! ” 

“There, Bella, that’ll do,” said her Jiance, suddenly awak- 
ening to the fact that she was trying to make herself dis- 
agreeable, and perhaps feeling slightly ashamed of her. 

“James ! I know what to say and what to leave unsaid, 
without tellings from you ; thanks all the same. You needn’t 
fear my saying a word about Mr. Tweddle and Ada — la, now, 
if I haven’t gone and said it ! What a stupid I am to run 
on so ! ” 

^'‘Drop it, Bella. Do you hear? that’s enough,” growled 
Jauncy. 

Leander sat silent ; he did not attempt again to turn the 
conversation : he knew better. Matilda seemed perfectly 
calm, and certainly showed no surface curiosity ; but he 
feared that her mother intended to require explanations. 

Miss Tweddle came in here with the original remark, 
that winter had begun now in good earnest. 

“ Yes,” said Bella ; “why, as we came along, there wasn’t 
hardly a leaf on the trees in the squares ; and yet only 
yesterday week, at the gardens, the trees hadn’t begun to 
shed. Had they, Mr. Tweddle ? Oh ! but I forgot ; you 
were so taken up with paying attention to Ada — 

James ! I suppose I can make a remark !) ” 


THE TINTED VENUS. 


103 

“ I’ll never take you out again if you don’t hold that 
tongue,” he whispered savagely. 

Mrs. Collum fixed her eyes on Leander, as he sat cow- 
ering on lier right. “ Leander Tweddle,” she said, in a 
hissing whisper, ‘Svhat is that young person talking about? 
Who — who is this ‘Ada’ ? I insist upon being told ! ” 

“ If you want to know, ask her,” he retorted desper- 
ately. 

All this by-play passed unnoticed by Miss Tweddle, who 
was probably too full of the cares of a hostess to pay atten- 
tion to it ; and accordingly she judged the pause that fol- 
lowed the fitting opportunity for a little speech. 

“Mrs. Collum, ma’am,” she began; “and my dearest 
Miss Matilda, the flower of all my lady lodgers; and you, 
Leandy ; and Mr. Jauncy ; and though last mentioned, not 
intentionally so, I assure you. Miss Parkinson, my dear, I 
couldn’t tell you how honored I feel to see you all sitting, 
so friendly and cheerful, round my humble table ! I hope 
this wall be only the beginning of many more so ; and I 
wish you all your very good healths ! ” 

“Which, if I may answ’er for self and present company,” 
said Mr. Jauncy, nobody else being able to utter a word, 
“ we drink and reciprocate.” 

Leander was saved for the moment, and the dinner 
passed without further incident. But his aunt’s vein of 
sentiment had been opened, and could not be staunched 
all at once ; for wdien the cloth was removed, and the de- 
canters and dishes of oranges placed tipon the table, she 
gave a little j^reparatory cough and began again. 

“I’m sure it isn’t my wish to be ceremonial,” she said; 
“but we’re all among friends (for I should like to look 
upon you as a friend, if you’ll let me,” she added rather 
dubiously, to Bella). “And I don’t really think there 
could be a better occasion for a sort of little ceremony that 
I’ve quite set my heart on. Leandy, know what I mean; 
and you’ve got it with you, I know, because you were told 
to bring it with you.” 

“ Miss Tweddle,” interrupted Matilda, hurriedly, “ not 
now. I — I don’t think Vidler has sent it back yet. I told 
you, you know ” 

“That’s all you know about it, young lady,” she said, 
archly ; “for I stopped in there yesterday and asked him 
about it, to make sure ; and he told me it was delivered 
over the very Sunday afternoon before. So, Leandy, 
oblige me for once, and put it on the dear girl’s finger be- 


104 


THE TINTED VENUS. 


fore US all ; you needn’t be bashful with us, I’m sure, either 
of you.” 

“What is all this?” asked Mrs. Collum. 

“Why, it’s a ring, Mrs. Collum, ma’am, that belonged 
to my own dear aunt, though she never wore it ; and her 
grandfather had the posy engraved on the inside of it. 
And I remember her telling me, before she was taken, that 
she’d left it to me in lier will, but I wasn’t to let it go out 
of the family. So I gave it to Leandy, to be his engage- 
ment ring ; but it’s had to be altered, because it was ever 
so much too large as it was.” 

' “I always thought,” said Mrs. Collum, “that it was the 
gentleman’s duty to provide the ring.” 

“So Leandy wanted to ; but I said : ‘You can pay for 
the altering ; but I’m fanciful about this, and I want to see 
dearest Miss Collum with my aunt’s ring on.’ ” 

“Oh, but, Miss Tweddle, can’t you see ?” said Matilda. 
“ He’s forgotten it ; don’t — don’t tease him about it. . . . 
It must be for some other time, that’s all ! ” 

“Matilda, I’m surprised at you,” said her mother. “To 
forget such a thing as that would be unpardonable in a/ty 
young man. Leander Tweddle, you cannot have forgotten 
it ! ” 

“ No,” he said, “ I’ve not forgotten it ; but — but I haven’t 
it about me, and I don’t know as I could lay my hand on 
it, just at present ; and that’s the truth ! ” 

of the truth,” said Bella. “ Oh, what deceitful 
things you men are! Leave me alone, James; I will 
speak. I won’t sit by and hear poor dear Miss Collum de- 
ceived in this way. Miss Collum, ask him if that is all he 
knows about it. Ask him, and see what he says ! ” 

“I’m quite satisfied with what he has chosen to say al- 
ready, Miss Parkinson ; thank you,” said Matilda. 

“Then permit me to say. Miss Collum, that I’m truly 
sorry for you,” said Bella. 

“ If you think so. Miss Parkinson, I suppose you must 
say so.” 

“I do say it,” said Bella ; “for it’s a sorrowful sight to 
see meekness all run to poorness of spirit. You have a 
right to an explanation from Mr. Tweddle there ; and you 
would insist on it, if you wasn’t afraid (and with good rea- 
son) of the answer you’d get !” 

At the beginning of this short colloquy Miss Tweddle, 
after growing very red and restless for some moments, had 
slipped out of the room, and came in now, trembling and 


rilE TIA'TED VEN-US., 


105 


out of breath, with a bonnet in her hand and a cloak over 
her arm. 

“ Miss Parkinson,” she said, speaking very rapidly, 
“when I asked you to come herewith my good friend and 
former lodger, I little thought that anything but friend- 
ship would come of it ; and sorry I am that it has turned 
out otherwise. And my feelings to Mr. • Jauncy are the 
same as ever ; but — this is your bonnet. Miss Parkinson, 
and your cloak. And this is my house ; and I shall be 
obliged if you’ll kindly put on the ones, and walk out of 
the other at once ! ” 

Bella burst into tears, and demanded from Mr. Jauncy 
why he had brought lier there to be insulted. “ You 
brought it all on yourself,” he said, gloomily ; “ you 
should have behaved ! ” 

“What have I done,” cried Bella, “to be told to go, as 
if I wasn’t fit to stay ?” 

“ Pll tell you what you’ve done,” said Miss Tweddle ; 
“you were asked here with Mr. Jauncy to meet my dear 
Leandy and his young lady, and get all four of you to 
know one another, and lay foundations for Friendship’s 
flowery bonds. And from the moment you came in, though 
I paid no attention to it at first, you’ve done nothing but 
insinuate and hint, and try all you could to set my dear 
Miss Collum and her ma against my poor unoffending 
nephew ; and I won’t sit by any longer and hear it. Put 
on your bonnet and cloak. Miss Parkinson, and Mr. Jauncy 
(who knows I don’t bear Iiim any ill-feeling, whatever 
happens) will go home with you.” 

“ I’ve said nothing,” repeated Bella, “ but what I’d a 
right to say, and what Pll stand to.” 

“ If you don’t put on those things,” said Jauncy, “ I shall 
go away myself, and leave you to follow as best you can.’’ 

“ Pm putting them on,” said Bella ; and her hands were 
unsteady witli passion as she tied her bonnet-strings. 
“ Don’t bully me^ James, because I won’t bear it ! Mr. 
Tweddle, if you’re a man, will you sit there and tell me 
you don’t know that that ring is on a certain person’s fin- 
ger — will you do that?” 

The miserable man concluded that Ada had disregarded 
his entreaties, and told her sister all about the ring and 
the accursed statue. He could not see why the story 
sliould have so inflamed Bella, but her temper was always 
uncertain. 

Everybody was looking at him, and he was expected to 


io6 


THE TINTED FENDS. 


say something. His main idea was, that he would see 
how much Bella knew before committing himself. 

“ What have I ever done to otfend you ? ” he asked, 
that you should turn on me in this downright vixenish 
manner ? I scorn to reply to your insinuations ! ” 

“ Do you want me to speak out plain ? James, stand 
away ^you please I You may all think what you choose 
of me, / don’t care! Perhaps iiyou were to come in and 
find the man who, only a week ago, had offered marriage 
to your youngest sister, figuring away as engaged to quite 
another lady, wouldn’t be all milk and honey, either! 
I’m doing right to expose him : the man who’d deceive one 
would deceive many, and so you’ll find. Miss Collum, little 
as you think it ? ” 

“That’s enough,” said Miss Tweddle ; “it’s alia mis- 
take, I’m sure, and you’ll be sorry some day for having 
made it. Now go, Miss Parkinson, and make no more 
mischief ! ” 

A light had burst in upon Leander’s perturbed mind. 
Ada had not broken faith with him, after all. He remem- 
bered Bella’s conduct during the return from Rosherwich, 
and understood at last to what a mistake her present wrath 
was due. 

Here, at all events, was an accusation he could repel 
with dignity, with truth. Foolish and unlucky he had 
been, and how unlucky he still hoped Matilda might never 
learn ; but false he was not, and she should not be allowed 
to believe it. 

“Miss Parkinson,” he said, “I’ve been badgered long 
enough. What is it you’re trying to bring up against me 
about your sister Ada? Speak it out, and I’m ready to 
answer you ! ” 

“ Leander,” said Matilda, “ I don’t want to hear it from 
her. Only you tell me that you’ve been true to me, and 
that is quite enough.” 

“ Matilda, you’re a foolish girl, and don’t know what 
you’re talking about,” said her mother. “ It is not enough 
for me; so I beg, young woman, if you’ve anything to 
accuse the man who’s to be my son-in-law of, you’ll say it 
now, in my presence, and let him contradict it afterward 
if he can ! ” 

“ Will he contradict his knowing my sister Ada, who’s 
one of the ladies at Madame Chenille’s, in the Edgware 
Road, more than a twelvemonth since, and paying her 
attentions ? ” asked Bella. 


THE TINTED VENDS. 


107 


“I don’t deny,” said Leander, ‘‘meeting her several 
times, and being considerably struck in a quiet way. But 
that was before I met Matilda ! ” 

“ You had met Matilda before last Saturday, I suppose ? ” 
sneered Bella, spitefully ; “when you laid your plans to 
join«our party at Rosherwich, and trouble my poor sister, 
who’d given up thinking of you.” • 

“ There you go, Bella ! ” said her fance. “ What do you 
know about his plans ? He’d no idea as Ada and you was 
to be there, and whert I told him, as we were driving down, 
it was all I could do to prevent him jumping out of the 
cab ! ” 

“ I’m highly flattered to hear it,” said Bella ; “ but he 
didn’t seem to be so afraid of Ada when they did meet ; 
and you best know, Mr. Tweddle, the things you said to 
that poor trusting girl all the time you were walking and 
dancing and talking foolishness to her.” 

“ I never said a word that couldn’t have been spoke from 
the top of St. Paul,” protested Leander. “ I did dance 
with her, I own, not to seem uncivil ; but we only waltzed 
round twice.” 

“ Then why did you give her the ring — an engagement 
ring too ? ” insisted Bella. 

“ Who saw me give her a ring.?” he demanded hotly ; 
“ do you dare to say you did ? Did she ever tell you I gave 
her any ring ? You know she didn’t! ” 

“ If I can’t trust my own ears,” said Bella, “I should like 
to know what I can trust. I heard you myself, in that 
railway carriage, ask my sister Ada not toAell anyone about 
some ring, and I tried to get out of Ada afterwards what 
the secret was ; but she wouldn’t treat me as a sister, and 
be open with me. But anyone with eyes in their head 
could guess wdiat was between you, and all the time you 
were an engaged man ! ” 

“ See there, now!” cried the injured hair-dresser; “there’s 
a thing to go and make all this mischief about. ! Matilda, 
Mrs. Collum, aunt, I declare to you I told the — the other 
young woman everything about n^y having formed new 
ties and that : I was very particular not to give rise to 
hopes which were only doomed to be disappointed. As to 
what Miss Parkinson says she overheard, why it’s very 
likely I may have asked her sister to say nothing about a 
ring, and I won’t deny it was the very same ring that I was 
to have'bTought here to-day ; for the fact was, I had the 
misfortune to lose it in those very gardens, and naturally 


io8 


THE TINTED FENDS. 


did not wish it talked about : and that’s the truth, as I 
stand here. As for giving it away, I swear I never parted 
■with it to no mortal woman ! ” 

“After that, Bella,” observed Mr. Jauncy, “you’d better 
say you’re sorry you spoke, and come home with me— that’s 
what you’d better do ! ” 

“ I sliall say nothing of the sort, ’’she asserted ; “ I’m too 
much of a lady to stay where my company is not desired, 
and I’m ready to go as soon as you please. But if he was 
to talk his head off, he would never persuade me (whatever 
he may do other parties) that he’s not been playing double, 
and if Ada were here you would soon see whether he would 
have the face to deny it. So good-night, Miss Tweddle, 
and sooner or later you’ll find yourself undeceived in your 
precious nephew, take my word for it. Good-night, Miss 
Collum, and I’m only sorry you haven’t more spirit than 
to put up with such treatment. James, are you going to 
keep me waiting any longer ?” 

Mr. Jauncy, with confused apologies to the company 
generally, hurried his betrothed off, in no very amiable 
mood ; and showed his sense of her indiscretions by indulg- 
ing in some very plain speaking on their homeward way. 

As the street door shut behind them, Leandcr gave a 
deep sigh of relief. 

“ Matilda, my own dearest girl,” he said, “ now that that 
cockatrice has departed, tell me, you don’t doubt your 
Leander, do you ? ” 

“ No,” said Matilda, judicially, “ I don’t doubt you, Lean- 
der ; only I do wisli you’d been a little more open with me ; 
you might have told me you had gone to those gardens 
and lost the ring, instead of leaving me to hear it from that 
girl.” 

. “ So I might, darling,” he owned ; “but I thought you’d 
disapprove.” 

“And if she’s wy daughter,” observed Mrs. Collum, “she 
7C//7/ disapprove ! ” 

But it was evident from Matilda’s manner that the in- 
ference was incorrect ; the relief of finding Leander guilt- 
less on the main count had blinded her to all minor short- 
comings, and he had the happiness of knowing himself 
fully and freely forgiven. 

If this could only have been the end ; but, while he was 
still throbbing with bliss, he heard a sound^ at which his 
“ bedded hair ” started up and stood on end— the ill-omened 
sound of a slow and heavy footfall 


THE TINTED VENUS. 


109 


“ Leandy,” cried his aunt, “ how strange you’re look- 
ing ! ” 

“ There’s some one in the passage,” he said, lioarsely ; 
“ I’ll go and see her. Don’t any of you come out ! ” 

“Why, it’s only our Jane,” said his aunt; “she always 
treads heavy.” 

The steps were heard going up the stairs ; then they 
seemed to pause half-way, and descend again. “ I’ll be 
bound she’s forgot something,” said Miss Tvveddle ; “ I 
never knew such a head as that girl’s and Leander be- 
gan to be almost reassured. 

The steps were heard in the adjoining room, which was 
shut off by folding-doors from the one they were occupying. 

“ Leander,” cried Matilda, “what lanihere be to look so 
frightened of ? ” and as she spoke there came a sounding 
solemn blow upon the folding-doors. 

“I never saw the lady before in all my life!” moaned 
the guilty man, before the doors had time to swing back ; 
for he knew too well who stood behind them. 

And his foreboding was justified to the full. The doors 
yielded to the blow, and, opening wide, revealed the tall 
and commanding figure of the goddess ; her face, thanks 
to Leander’s pigments, glowing lifelike under her hood, 
and the gold ring gleaming on her outstretched hand. 

“ Leander,” said the goddess, in low, musical accents, 
“ come away ! ” 

“ Upon my word ! ” cried Mrs. Collum, “w/io is this 
person ? ” 

He could not speak. There seemed to be a hammer 
beating on his brain, reducing it to a pulp. 

“ Perhaps,” said Miss Tweddle; “ perhaps, young lady, 
you'll explain what you’ve come for?” 

The statue slowly pointed to Leander. “I come for 
him,” she said calmly ; “ he has vowed himself to me-»he 
is mine ! ” 

Matilda, after staring, incredulous, for some moments at 
the intruder, sank with a wild scream upon the sofa, and 
hid her face. 

Leander flew to her side. '“Matilda, my own,” he, im- 
plored, “ don’t be alarmed ; she won’t touch me 

she’s come after ! ” 

Matilda rose and repulsed him with sudden energy. 
“ How dare you ! ” she cried, hysterically. “ I see it all 
now ; the ring, the — the cloak, she has had them all the 
time ’l . . . Fool that I was— silly, trusting fool ! ” 


no 


THE TINTED VENDS. 


And she broke out into violent hysterics. “ Go away at 
once, hypocrite ! ” enjoined her mother, addressing the 
distracted hair-dresser, as he stood, dumb and impotent, 
before her. “ Do you want to kill my poor child ? Take 
yourself off! ” 

“ For goodness’ sake, go, Leandy,” added his aunt ; “ I 
can’t bear the sight of you ! ” 

“Leander, I wait,” said the statue. “Come 1” 

He stood there a moment longer, looking blankly at tlie 
two elder women as they bustled about the prostrate girl, 
and then he gave a bitter, defiant laugh. 

His fate was too strong for him. No one was in the 
mood to listen to any explanation ; it was all ov^r ! “I’m 
coming,” he said to the goddess ; “ I may as well ; I’m not 
wanted here ! ” 

And, with a smothered curse, bedashed blindly from the 
room, and out into the foggy street. 


CHAPTER XII. 

AN APPEAL. 

“ If you did know to whom I gave the ring, 

If you did know for whom I gave the ring. 

And how unwillingly I left the ring, 

You would abate the strength of your displeasure.” 

— Merchant of Venice. 

Leander Strode down the street in a whirl of conflicting 
emotions : at the very moment when he seemed to ha,ve 
prevailed over Miss Parkinson’s machinations, his evil fate 
had stepped in and undone him forever ! What would be- 
confh of him without Matilda ? As he was thinking of his 
gloomy prospects, he noticed, for the first time, that the 
statue was keeping step by his side, and he turned on her 
with smothered rage. “ Well,” he began, “I hope you’re 
satisfied ? ” 

“Quite, Leander, quite satisfied ; for have I not found 
you ? ” 

“ Oh, you’ve found me right enough ! ” he replied, with 
a groan ; “ trust you for that ! What I should like' to know 
is, how the dickens you did it ? ” 

“Thus,” she replied ; “ I awoke, and it was dark, and 


THE T/XTED VEXUS. 


Ill 


you were not there, and I needed you ; and I went fortli, 
and called you by yoiir name. And you, now that you 
hav'e hearkened to my call, you are happy, are you not ?” 

“ Me ?” said Leander, grimly. ‘‘Oh, I’m regular jolly, 
I am ! Haven’t I reason ?” 

“ Your sisters seemed alarmed at my coming,” slie said ; 
“ why ? ” 

“Well,” said Leander, “they aren’t used to having mar- 
ble goddesses dropping in on them promiscuously.” 

“ The youngest wept — was it because I took you from 
her side ? ” 

“ I shouldn’t wonder,” he returned, gruffly ; “ don’t 
bother me ! ” 

When they were both safely within the little upper room 
again, he opened the cupboard door wide. “ Now, marm,” 
he said, in a voice which trembled with repressed rage, 
“ you must be tired with the exercise you’ve took tliis 
evening, and I’ll trouble you to walk in here.” 

“ There are many things on which I would speak with 
you,” she said. 

“ You must keep them for next time,” he answered, 
roughly. “ If you can see anything, you can see that just 
now I’m not in a temper for to stand it, whatever I may 
be another evening.” 

“ Why do I suffer this language from you ? ” she de- 
manded, indignantly — “why ? ” 

“If you don’t go in, you’ll hear language you’ll like still 
less, goddess or no goddess ! ” he said, foaming. “ I mean 
it. I’ve been worked up past all bearing, and I advise 
you to let me alone just now, or you’ll repent it ! ” 

“ Enough ! ” she said, haughtily, and stalked proudly 
into the lonely niche, which he closed instantly ; as he did 
so, he noticed his Sunday papers lying still folded on his 
table, and seized one eagerly. 

“It may have something in it about what Jauncy was 
telling me of,” he said ; and his search was rewarded by 
the following paragraph : 

“ Daring Capture of Burglars in Bloomsbury. — On 
the night of Friday, the — th. Police-constable Yorke, B 
954, while on duty, in the course of one of his rounds, 
discovered two men, in a fainting condition and covered 
with blood, which was apparently flowing from sundry 
wounds upon their persons, lying against the railings of 
Queen Square. Being unable to give any coherent ac- 
count of themselves, and house-breaking implements being 


112 


THE TINTED FENDS. 


found in their possession, they were at once removed to the 
Bow Street Station, where, the charge having been entered 
against them, they were recognized by a member of the 
force as two notorious house-breakers who have long been 
‘wanted’ in connection with the Walham Green burglary, 
in which, as will be remembered, an officer lost his life.” 

The paragraph went on to give their names and sundry 
other details, and concluded with a sentence which plunged 
Leander into fresh torments : 

“In spite of the usual caution, both prisoners insisted 
upon volunteering a statement, the exact nature of which 
has not yet transpired, but which is believed to have ref- 
erence to another equally mysterious outrage — the theft of 
the famous Venus from the Wricklesmarsh Collection — 
and is understood to divert suspicion into a hitherto un- 
suspected channel.’’ 

What could this mean, if not that those villains, smarting 
under their second failure, had denounced him in revenge ? 
He tried to persuade himself that the passage would bear 
any other construction, but not very successfully. “If 
they have brought 7ue in,’’ he thought, and it was his only 
gleam of consolation, “ I should have heard of it before 
this.’’ 

And even this gleam vanished as a sharp knocking was 
heard below ; and, descending to open the door, he found 
his visitor to be Inspector Bilbow. 

“ Evening, Tweddle,” said the inspector, quietly. “ I’ve 
come to have another little talk with you.” 

Leander thought he would play his part till it became 
quite hopeless. “ Proud to see you, Mr. Inspector,” he 
said. “ Will you walk into my saloon ? and I’ll light the 
gas for you.”- 

“ No, don’t you trouble yourself,” said the terrible man ; 
“ I’ll walk upstairs where you’re sitting yourself, if you’ve 
no objections.” 

Leander da,red not make any, and he ushered the de- 
tective upstairs accordingly. 

“ Ha! ” said the latter, tlirowing a quick eye round the 
little room. “ Nice little crib you’ve got here : keep every- 
thing you want on the premises, eh ? Find those cup- 
boards very convenient, 1 dare say ? ” 

“ Vei*y,” said Leander (like the innocent Joseph Surface 
that he was); “oh, very convenient, sir!” He tried to 
keep his eyes from resting too consciously upon the fatal 
door that held his secret. 


THE TINTED VENDS. 


ii-? 


“ Keep your coal and your wine and spirits there?” said 
the detective. (Was he watching his countenance or not ?) 

“ Y — yes,” said Leander ; “ leastways, in one of them. 
Will you take anything, sir?” 

“Thank’ee, Tweddle ; I don’t mind if I do. And what 
do you keep in the other one, now ? ” 

“The other?” said the poor man. “Oh, odd things!” 
(He certainly had one odd thing in it.) 

After the officer had chosen and mixed his spirits and 
water, he began: “Now, you know what’s brought me 
here, don’t you ? ” 

(“If he was sure, he wouldn’t try to pump me,” argued 
Leander. “ I won’t throw up just yet.”) 

“I suppose it’s the ring,” lie replied innocently. “You 
don’t mean to say you’ve got it back for me, Mr. Inspector ? 
Well, I am glad.” 

“ I thought you set no particular value on the ring when 
I met you last ? ” said the other. 

“Why,” said Leander, “I may have said so out of po- 
liteness, not wanting to trouble you ; but as you said it 
was the statue you were after chiefly, why I don’t mind 
admitting that I shall be thankful indeed to get that ring 
back ; and so you’ve brought it, have you, sir?” 

He said this so naturally, having called in all his powers 
of dissimulation to help him in his extremity, that the de- 
tective was favorably impressed ; he had already felt a 
suspicion that he had been sent here on a fool’s errand, 
and no one could have looked less like a daring criminal, 
and the trusted confederate of still more daring ruffians, 
than did Leander at that moment. 

“ Heard anything of Potter lately ? ” he asked, wishing 
to try the effect of a sudden coup. 

“I don’t know the gentleman,” said Leander, firmly; 
for, after all, he did not. 

“Now, take care ; he’s been seen to frequent this house! 
We know more than you think, young man.” 

“ Oh! if he bluffs, / can bluff too,” passed through Lean- 
der’s mind. “ Inspector Bilbow,” he said, “ I give you my 
sacred honor. I’ve never set eyes on him ; he can’t have 
been here, not with my knowledge. It’s my belief you’re 
trying to make out something against me. If you’re a 
friend, Inspector, you’ll tell me straight out.” 

“Tiiaffs not our way of doing business ; and yet, hang it, 
I ought to know an honest man by this time ! Tweddle, 
I’ll drop the investigator, and speak as man to man. 


TTIE TINTED ]''ENVS. 


114 

You’ve been reported to me (never mind by whom) as the 
receiver of the stolen Venus — a pal of tiiis very Potter — 
that’s what I’ve against you, my man !” 

“ I know who told you that,” said Leander ; “ it was that 
Count and hiS precious friend Braddle ! ” 

“Oh, you know them, do you? That’s an odd guess 
for an innocent man, Tweddle ! ” 

“ They found me out from inquiries at the gardens,” 
said Leander ; “and as for guessing, it’s in this very paper. 
So it’s me they’ve gone and implicated, have they? All 
right. I suppose they’re men whose word you’d go by, 
wouldn’t you, sir — trutliful, reliable kind of parties, eh ?” 

“None of that, Tweddle,” said the Inspector, rather un- 
easily. “We officers are bound to follow up any clue, no 
matter where it comes from. I was informed that that 
Venus is concealed somewhere about these premises. It 
may be, or it may not be ; but it’s my duty to make the 
proper investigations : if you were a prince of the blood, 
it would be all the same.” 

“Well, all I can say is, that I’m as innocent as my own 
toilet preparations. Ask yourself if it is likely? What 
would / do with a stolen statue — not to mention that I’m 
a respectable tradesman, with a reputation to maintain ? 
Excuse me, but I’m afraid those burglars have been ’aving 
a lark with you, sir.” 

He went just a little too far here ; for the detective was 
visibly irritated. “ Don’t chatter to me,” he said. “ If 
you’re innocent, so much the better for you ; if that statue 
is found here after this, it will ruin you. If you know 
anything, be it ever so little, about it, the best thing you 
can do is to speak out while there’s time.” 

“ I can only say once more. I’m as innocent as the driv- 
elling snow,” repeated Leander. “Why can’t you believe 
my word against those blackguards ! ” 

“ Perhaps I do,” said the other ; “ but I must make a 
formal look round, to ease my conscience.” 

Leander’s composure nearly failed him. “By all means,” 
he said at length ; “ come and ease your conscience all 
over tlie house, sir, do ; I can show you over.” 

“ Softly,” said the detective ; “ I’ll begin here, and work 
gradually up, and then down again.” 

“Here?” said Leander, aghast; “why, you’ve seen all 
there is here ! ” 

“Now, Tweddle, I shall conduct this my own way, \i you 
please. I’ve been following your eyes, Tweddle, and 


THE TINTED VENDS. 


1^5 

they’ve told me tales. I’ll trouble you to open that Cup- 
board you keep looking at so.” 

“This cupboard?” cried Leander ; “why, you don’t 
suppose I’ve got the Venus in there, sir!” 

“ If it’s anywhere it’s there ! There’s no taking me in, I 
tell you — open it ! ” 

“ bh ! ” said Leander, “it is hard to be the object of 
these cruel suspicions. Mr. Inspector, listen to me : I 
can’t open that cupboard, and I’ll tell you why. . . . You 
— you’ve been young yourself. . . . Think how you’d feel 
in my situation . . . and consider /ler / As a gentleman, 
you won’t press it. I’m sure ! ” 

“ If I’m making any mistake I shall know how to apolo- 
gize,” said the Inspector. “If you don’t open that cup- 
board /shall.” 

“Never!” exclaimed Leander. “I’ll die first!” and 
he threw himself upon the handle. 

The other caught him by the shoulders and sent him 
twirling into the opposite corner ; and then, taking a key 
from his owm pocket, he opened the door himself. 

“ I — I never encouraged her ! ” whimpered Leander, as 
he saw that all was lost. 

The officer had stepped back in silence from the cup- 
board — then he faced Leander, with a changed expression. 
“I suppose you think yourself devilish sharp?” he said 
savagely ; and Leander discovered that the cupboard was 
as bare as Mother Hubbard’s ! 

He was not precisely surprised, except at first. “She’s 
keeping out of the way ; she wouldn’t be the goddess she 
is if she couldn’t do a trifling thing like that ! ” was all he 
thought of the phenomenon.' He forced himself to laugh 
a little. “Excuse me,” he said, “but you did seem so set 
on detecting something wrong that I couldn’t help humor- 
ing you ! ” 

Inspector Bilbow was considerably out of humor, and 
gave Leander to understand that he would laugh in a cer- 
tain obscure region, known as “the other side of his face,” 
by-and-by. “You take care, that’s my advice to you,, 
young man. I’ve a deuced good mind, to arrest you on 
suspicion as it is ! ” he said hotly. 

“Lor, sir!” said Leander, “what for— for not having 
anything in that cupboard ? ” 

“ It’s my belief you know more than you choose to tell. 
Be that as it may, I shall not'take you into custody for the 
present ; but you pay attention to what I am going to tell 


Ii6 


THE TINTED VENUS, 


you*next. Don’t you attempt to leave this house, or to 
remove anything from it till you see me again, and that’ll 
be some time to-morrow evening. If you do attempt it 
you’ll be apprehended at once, for you’re being watched. 
I tell you that for your own sake, Tweddle ; for I’ve no 
wish to get you into trouble if you act fairly by me. But 
mind you stay where you are for the next twenty-four 
hours.” 

“And what’s to happen then ? ” said Leander. 

“ I mean to have the whole house thoroughly searched, 
and you must be ready to give us every assistance — that’s 
what’s to happen. I might make a secret of it, but where’s 
the use ? If you’re not a fool, you’ll see that it won’t do to 
play any tricks. You’d far better stand by me than Potter.” 

“I tell you I don’t know Potter. Blow Potter. !” said 
Leander, warmly. 

“We shall see,” was all the detective deigned to reply ; 
“ and just be ready for my men to-morrow evening, or take 
the consequences. Those are my last words to you ! ” 

And with this he took his leave. He was by no means 
the most brilliant officer in the Department, and he felt 
uncomfortably aware that he did not see his way clear as 
yet ; he could not even make up his mind on so elementaiT 
a point as Leander’s guilt or innocence. 

But he meant to take the course he had announced, 
and his frankness in giving previous notice was not with- 
out calculation. He argued thus : If Tweddle was free 
from all complicity, nothing was lost by delaying the 
search for a day ; if he were guilty, he would be more 
than mortal if he did not attempt, after siicli a warning, 
either to hide his booty more securely, and probably leave 
traces whicli would ’betray him, or else to escape, when his 
guilt would be manifest. 

Unfortunately, there were circumstances in the case 
Avhich he could not be expected to know, and which made 
his logic inapplicable. 

After he had gone, Leander thrust liis liands deep into 
his pockets, and began to whistle forlornly. “ A little 
while ago it was burglars— now it’s police ! ” he reflected 
aloud. “ I’m going it, I am ! And then there’s Matilda 
and that there Venus — one predickyment on top of an- 
other !” (But here a sudden hope lightened .his burden). 
“ Suppose she’s took herself off for good ?” He was pre- 
vented from indulging this any further by a long, lov.^ 
laugh, which came from the closed cupboard. 


THE TIN'J'EI) EE JVC'S. 


117 

“No such luck — she’s back again 1 lie groaned. “ Oh, 
come out if you want to — don’t stay larfin’ at me in there !” 

The goddess stepped out, with a smile of subdued mirth 
upon her lips. “Leander,” she said, “did I surprise you 
just now that I had vanished?” / ~ 

“ Oh,” he said wearily, “ I don’t know — yes, I suppose 
so ; you found some way of getting through at the back, I 
daresay ? ” 

“ Do you think that even now I cannot break through 
the petty restraints of matter?” 

“ Well, however it was managed, it was cleverly done, I 
must say that. I didn’t hardly expect it of you. But you 
must do the same to-morrow night, mind you ! ” 

“ Oh, must I ? ” she said. 

“Yes, unless you want to ruin me altogether, you must. 
They’re going to search the premises for you ! ” 

“I have heard all,” she said but give yourself no 
anxiety ; by that time you and I will be beyond human 
reach ! ” 

“Not me!” he corrected. “If you think I’m going to 
let myself be wafted over to Cyprus (which is British soil 
now, let me tell you), you’re under a entire delusion. I’ve 
never been wafted anywhere yet, and I don’t mean to try 
it ! ” 

All her pent-up wrath broke forth and descended upon 
him with crushing force. 

“Meanest and most contemptible of mortal men, you 
shall recognize me as the goddess I am 1 I have borne with 
you too long ; it shall end this night. Shallow fool that 
you have been, to match your puny intellect against a 
goddess famed for her wiles as for her beauty ! You have 
thought me simple and guileless; you have never feared 
to treat me with flippant disrespect ; you have even dared 
to suppose that you could keep me — an immortal — pent 
within these wretched walls ! I humored you, I let you 
fool yourself with the notion that your will was free — your 
soul "your own. Now that is over! Look at the perils 
which encircle you. Everything has been aiding to drive 
you into thes^ arms. My hour of triumph is at hand — ^ 
vield then ! Cast yourself at my feet, and grovel for par- 
don — for mercy — or assuredly I will spare you not ! ” 

Leander went down on all fours on the hearth-rug. 
“Mercy!” he cried, feebly. “I’ve meant no offence. 
Onlv tell me what you want of me.” 

“Why should! tell you again'? I "demand the . words 


Ii8 THE TINTED FENDS. 

from you which place you within my power : speak them 
at once ! ” 

Ah ! ” thought Leander, “ I am not in her power as it 
is, then.”) “ If I was to tell you Once more that I couldn’t 
undertake to say any such words?” he asked aloud. 

‘‘*Then,” she said, “my patience would be at an end, 
and I would scatter your vile frame to the four winds of 
heaven ! ” 

“ Lady Venus,” said Leander, getting up with a white 
and desperate face, ‘‘ don’t drive me into a corner. I can’t 
go off, not at a moment’s notice — in either way ! I — I 
must have a day — only a day — to make my arrangements 
in. Give me a day. Lady Venus; I ask it as a partickler 
favor ! ” 

“Be it so,” she said ; “one day I give you in which to 
take leave of such as may be dear to you ; but, after that, 
I will listen to no further pleadings. You are mine, and, 
all unworthy as you are, I shall hold you to your pledge !” 

Leander was left with this terrible warning ringing in 
his ears ; the goddess W'ould hold him to his involuntary 
pledge. Even he could see that it was pride, and not 
affection, which rendered her so determined ; and he 
trembled at the thought of placing himself irrevocably in 
her power. 

But what was he to do ? The alternative was too awful ; 
and then, in either case, he must lose Matilda. Here the 
recollection of how he had left her came over him with a 
vivid force. What must she be thinking of him at that 
moment ? And who would ever tell her the truth, when 
he liad been spirited away for ever? 

“Oh, Matilda!” he cried, “if you only knew the hid- 
geous position I’m in — if you could only advise me what 
to do~I could bear it better ! ” 

And then he resolved that he would ask that advice with- 
out delay, and decide nothing until she replied. There 
was no reason for any further concealment ; she had seen 
the statue herself, and must know the_ worst. What she 
could not know was his perfect innocence of any real un- 
faithfulness to her, and that he must explain. 

He sat up all night composing a letter that should touch 
her to the heart, with the following result : 

“ My own dearest Girl, 

“If such you will still allow me to qualify you, I 
write to you in a state of mind that I really ardly I^now 


THE TINTED VENDS. 


119 

what I am about, but I cannot indure making no effort to 
clear up the gaping abiss which the events of the past fatal 
afternoon has raised betwixt us. 

“In spite of all I could do, you have now seen, and been 
justly alarmed at, the Person with whom I allowed myself 
to become involved in such a unhappy and unprecedented 
manner, and having done so, you can think for yourself 
whether that Art of Stone was able for to supplant yours 
for a single moment, though the way in which such a 
hidgeous Event transpired I cannot trust my pen to de- 
scribe except in the remark that it was purely axidental. 
It all appened on that ill-ominous Saturday when we went 
down to those Ghirdens where my Doom was saving up to 
lay in wait for me, and I scorn to deny that Bella’s sister 
Ada was one of the party. But as to anything serous in 
that quarter, oh Tilly the ole time I was contrasting you 
with her and thinking how truly superior, and never did I 
swerve not what could be termed a swerve for a instant. I 
did dance arf a walz with her — but why ? Because she 
asked me to it and as a Gentleman I was bound to oblige ! 
And that was afterwards too, when I^had put that ring on 
which is the sauce of all my recent aggony. All the while 
I was dancing my thoughts were elsewhere — on how I 
could get the ring back again, for so I still hoped I could* 
though when I came to have a try, oh my dear girl no one 
couldn’t persuade her she’s that obstinate, and yet unless I 
do it is all over with me, and soon too ! 

“And now if it’s the last time I shall ever write words 
with a mortal pen, I must request your suport in this dilem- 
mer which is sounding its dread orns at my very door ! 

“You know what she is and who she is, and you cannot 
doubt but what she’s a godess loath as you must feel to ad- 
mit such a thing, and I ask you if it would be downright 
wicked in me to do what she tells me I must do. Indeed 
I wont do it, being no less than flying with her immediate 
to a distant climb, and you know how repugnant I am to 
such a action — not if you advise me against it or even if 
you was but to assure me your affections were unchanged 
in spite of all ! But you know we parted under pigulier 
circs, and I cannot disgise from myself that you may be 
thinking wuss of me than what Matilda I can honestly say 
I deserve ! 

“ Now I tell you solimly that if this is the fact, and 
you’ve been thinking of your proper pride and your 
womanly dignity and things like that — there’s no time for to 


120 


THE TINTED VENUS. 


do it in Matilda, if you don’t want to break with me for all 
Eternity ! 

“For she’s pressing me to carry out the pledge, as she 
calls it, and I must decide before this time to-morrow, and 
I want to feel you are not lost to me before I can support 
my trial, and what with countless perplexities and bur- 
glars threatening, and giving false informations, and police 
searching, there’s no saying what I may do nor what I 
mayn’t do if I’m left to myself, for indeed I am very un- 
appy Matilda, and if ever a man was made a Victim 
through acting without intentions, or if with, of the best 
— I am that Party ! O Matilda don’t, don’t desert me, un- 
less you have seased to care for me, and in that contin- 
gency I can look upon my Fate whatever it be with a 
apathy that will supply the courage which will not even 
winch at its aproach, but if I am still of value, come, and 
come precious soon, or it will be too late to the Assist- 
ance of 

“Your truly penitent and unfortunate 

“ Leander Tweddle. 

“ P. S. — You will see the condition of my feelings from 
my spelling — I haven’t the hart to spell.” 

Dawn was breaking as he put the final touches to tliis 
appeal, and read it over with a gloomy approbation. He 
had always cherished the conviction that he could “ write 
a good letter when he was put to it,” and felt now that he 
had more than risen to the occasion. 

“William shall take it down to Bayswater the first thing 
to-morrow — no, to-day, I mean,” he said, rubbing his hot 
eyes ; “ I fancy it will do my business !” 

And it did. 


CHAPTER XHI. 

the last straw. 

“ Thou in justice, 

If from the height of majesty we can 
Look down upon thy lowness and embrace it, 

Art bound with fervor to look up to me.” 

—Massinger, Roman Actor. 

• ^ Haggard and distraught was Leander as he went about 

his business that morning, so mechanically that one cus- 
tomer, who had requested to have his luxuriant locks 


'THE TINTED VENDS. 


121 


“trimmed,” found himself reduced to a state of penal 
bullet-headedness before he could protest, and another 
sacrificed his whiskers and part of one ear to the hair- 
dresser’s uninspired scissors. For Leander’s eyes were 
constantly turning to the front part of his shop, where his 
apprentice might come in at any moment with the answer 
to his appeal. 

At last the moment came when the bell fixed at the door 
sounded sharply, and he saw the sleek head and chubby 
red face he had been so anxiously expecting. He was 
busy with a customer ; but that could not detain him then, 
and he rushed quickly into the outer shop. “Well, Wil- 
liam,” he said, breathlessly, “ a nice time you’ve been over 
that message 1 I gave you the money for your bus.” 

“ Yessur, but it was this way : you said a green bus, and 
I took a green bus wdth ‘ Bayswater ’ on it, and I didn’t 
know nothing was w^rong, and when it stopped I sez to the 
conductor, ‘This ain’t Kensington Gardings ;’ and he sez, 
‘No, it’s Archer Street and I sez ” 

“ Never mind that now ; you got to the shop, didn’t 
you ? ” 

“Yes, I got to the shop, sir, and I see the lady; but I 
sez to that conductor, ‘You should ha’ told me,’ I sez ” 

“ Did she give you anything for me ? ” interrupted Lean- 
der, impatiently. 

“Yessur,” said the boy. 

“ Then where the dooce is it ? ” 

“’Ere!” said William, and brought out an evelope, 
which his master tore open with joy : it contained his own 
letter ! 

“ William,” he said, unsteadily, “ is this all ?” 

“Ain’t it enough, sir?” said the young scoundrel, who 
had guessed the state of affairs, and felt an impish satis- 
faction at his employer’s rejection. 

“None of that, William ; d’ye hear' me ?” said Leander. 
“William, I ain’t been a bad master to you. Tell me, how 
did she take it ?” 

“ Well, she didn’t seem to want to take it nohow at first,” 
said the boy ; “ I went up to the desk where she was a 
sittin’ and gave it her, and by-and-by she opened it with 
the tips of her fingers, as if it would bite, and read it all 
through very careful, and I could see her nose going up 
gradual, and her color coming, and then she sez to me, 
‘You may go now, boy ; there’s no answer;’ and I sez to 
her, ‘ If you please, miss, master said as I was not to go 


122 


THE TINTED VENDS. 


away without a aaswer so she sez, uncommon short and 
stiff, ‘ In that case he shall have it ! ’ like that, she says, as 
proud as a queen, and she scribbles a line or two on it, and 
throws it to me, and goes on casting up figgers.” 

“ A line or two ! where ?” cried Leander, and caught up 
the letter again : yes, there on the last page was Matilda’s 
delicate commercial handwriting, and the poor man read 
the cruel words, I have nothing to advise ; I give you up to 
yotir ^goddess / ’ ” 

“Very well, William,” he said, with a deadly calm, 
“that's all. You young devil, what are you a-sniggering 
at ?” he added, with a sudden outburst. 

“On’y something I ’card a boy say in the street, sir, 
going along, sir ; nothing to do with you, sir.” 

“Oh, youth, youth,” murmured the poor broken man ; 
“ boys don’t grow feelings, any more than they grow whisk- 
ers ! ” 

And he went back to his saloon, where he was instantly 
hailed with reproaches from the abandoned customer. 
“ Look here, sir ! what do you mean by this ? I told you 
1 wanted to be shaved, and you’ve soaped the top of my 
head and left it to cool ! What ” (and he made use of ex- 
pletives here), “what are you about ?” 

Leander apologized on the ground of business of a press- 
ing nature, but the customer was not pacified. “ Busi- 
ness, sir ! your business is here : Tin your business ! and I 
come to be shaved, and you soap the top of my head, and 
leave me all alone to dry! It’s a scandalous! it’s ” 

“ Look here, sir,” interrupted Leander, gloomily : “ I’ve 
a good deal of private trouble to put up with just now, 
without having jw/ going on at me ; so I must ask you not 
to arris me like this, or I don’t know what I might do, witli 
a razor so ’andy ! ” 

“That’ll do!” said the customer, hastily; “I — I don’t 
care about being shaved this morning. Wipe ray head, 
and let me go; no I’ll wipe it myself, don’t you trouble ! ” 
and he made for the door. “ It’s my belief,” he said, paus- 
ing on the threshold Jor an instant, “that you are a dan- 
gerous lunatic, sir ; you ought to be shut up !” 

“ I dessay I shall have a mad doctor down on me after 
this,” thought Leander; “but I shan’t wait ior him. No, 
it is all over now ; the die is fixed ! Cruel Tillie ! you 
have spoke the mandrake ; you have thrust me into the 
stony harms of that ’eathen goddess— always supposing 
the police don’t nip in fust and get the start of her.” 


THE TINTED VENDS. 


123 


No more customers came that day, which was fortunate, 
perhaps, for him. The afternoon passed, and dusk ap- 
proached, but the hair-dresser sat oh motionless, in his dark- 
ening saloon, without the energy to light a single gas-jet. 

At last he roused himself sufficiently to go to the head 
of the stairs leading to his “labatry,” and call for William, 
who, it appeared, was composing an egg-wash, after one of 
his employer’s formulae, and came up, Avondering to find 
the place in darkness. 

“ Come here, William,” said Leander, solemnly. “ I 
just want a few words with you, and then you can go. I 
can do the shutting up myself. William, we can none of 
us foretell the future ; and it may so ’appen that you are 
looking on my face for the last time ; if it should so be, 
William, remember the words I am now about to speak, and 
lay them to art ! . . . This world is full of pitfalls ; and some 
of us walk circumspect and keep out of ’em, and some of 
us, William — some of us don’t. If there’s any places more 
abounding in pitfalls than what others are, it is the nox- 
ious localities known under the deceitful appellation of 
‘ pleasure ’ gardens. And you may take that as the voice 
of one calling to you from the bottom of about as deep a 
’ole as a mortal man ever plumped into. And if ever you 
find a taste for statuary growing on you, William, keep it 
down, wrastle with it, and don’t encourage it. Farewell, 
William ! be here at the usual time to-morrow, though 
whether you Avill find here is more than I can say.” 

The boy went away, much impressed by so elaborate 
and formal a parting, which seemed to him a sign that, in 
his parlance, “the guv’nor was going to make a bolt of it.” 
Leander busied himself in some melancholy preparations 
for his impending departure, dissolution, or incarceration ; 
he Avas not very clear which it might be. 

He AA^ent doAvn and put his “labatry” in order. There 
he had Avorked Avith all the fiery zeal of an iiiAmntor at the 
discoveries Avhich Avere to confer perpetual youth in A^a- 
rious sized bottles upon a grateful Avorld. He must leave 
them all, Avith his A\mrk scarcely begun ! Another Avould 
step in and perfect Avhat he had left incomplete ! 

He came up again, Avith a heaA^y lieart, and examined 
his till. There was not much ; enough, hoAvever, for Wil- 
liam’s AA'ages and any small debts.* He made a list of these, 
and left it there Avith the coin. “They must settle it 
among themseh^es,” he thought wearily ; “ I can’t be both- 
ered with business noAA\” 


124 


THE TINTED VENUS. 


He was thinking whether it was worth while to shut the 
shop up or not, when a clear voice sounded from above : 
“ Leander, where art thou ? Come hither ! ” And he 
started as if he liad been shot. “I’m coming, madam,” 
he called up, obsequiously. “ I’ll be with you in one 
minute ! ” 

“Now for it,” he thought, as he went up to his sitting- 
room. “I wish I wasn’t all of a twitter. I wish I knew 
what was coming next ! ” 

The room was dark, but when he got a light he saw the 
statue standing in the centre of the room, her hood thrown 
back and the fur-lined mantle hanging loosely about her ; 
the face looked stern and terrible under its brilliant tint. 

“ Have you made your choice ? ” she demanded. 

“ Choice ! ” he said. “ I haven’t any choice left me ! ” 

“ It is true,” she said, triumphantly. “ Your friends have 
deserted you ; mortals are banded together to seize and 
disgrace you ; you have no refuge but with me. But time 
is short. Come, then, place yourself within the shelter of 
these arms, and while they enfold you tight in their marble 
embrace, repeat after me the words which complete my 
power.” 

“ There’s no partikler hurry,” he objected ; “ I will di- 
rectly. I — 1 only want to know what will happen when 
I’ve done it. You can’t have any objection to a natural 
curiosity like that.” 

“You will lose consciousness, to recover it in balmy 
Cyprus, with Aphrodite (no longer marble, but the,actual 
goddess, warm and living) by your side ! Ah ! impervious 
one, can you linger' still ? Do you not tremble with haste 
to feel my breath fanning your cheek, my soft arm around 
your neck ? Are not your eyes already dazzled by the 
gleam of my golden tresses ? ” 

“Well, I can’t say they are ; not at present,” said Lean- 
der, “ And you see, it’s ail very well ; but, as I asked you 
once before, how are you going to get me there ? It’s a 
long way, and I’m ten stone if I’m an ounce ! ” , 

“ Heavy-witted youth, it is not your body that will taste 
perennial bliss.” 

“ And what’s to become of that, then ? ” he asked, anx- 
iousl)^ 

“ That will be left here, clasped to this stone, itself as 
cold and lifeless.” 

“ Oh ! ” said Leander, “ I didn’t bargain for that, and I 
don’t like it.” 


THE TINTED VENUS'. 


125 


“ You will know nothing of it ; you will be with me, in 
dreamy grottoes strewn with fragrant rushes and the new- 
stript leaves of the vine, where the warm air wooes to re- 
pose with its languorous softness, and the water as it wells 
murmurs its liquid laughter. Ah ! no Greek would have 
hesitated thus.” 

“Well, I ain’t a Greek ; and, as a business man, you 
can’t be surprised if I want to make sure it’s a genuine 
thing, and worth the risk, before I commit myself. I think 
I understand that it is the gold ring which is to bind us 
two together ? ” 

“ It is,” she said ; “ by that pure and noble metal are we 
united.” 

“Well,” said Leander, “ tliat being so, I should wish to 
have it tested, else there might be a hitch somewhere or 
other.^’ 

“ Tested ! ” she cried ; “ what is that ? ” 

“Trying it, to see if it’s real gold or not,” he said. “We 
can easily have it done.” 

“ It is needless,” she replied, haughtily. “ I will not 
suffer my power to be thus doubted, nor that of the pure 
and precious metal through which I have obtained it ! ” 

Leander might have objected to this as an example of 
that obscure feat, “begging the question;” for, whether 
the metal was pure and precious was precisely the point 
he desired to ascertain. And this desire was quite genu- 
ine ; for, though he saw no other course before him but 
that upon which the goddess insisted, he did wish to take 
every reasonable precaution. 

“ For all I know,” he reasoned in his own mind, “if there’s 
anything wrong with that ring, I may be left ’igh and dry, 
half-way to Cyprus ; or she may get tired of me, and turn 
me out of those grottoes of hers ! If I must go with her 
I should like to make things as safe as I could.” 

“ It won’t take long,” he pleaded ; “ and if I find the 
ring’s real gold, I promise I won’t hold out any longer.” 

“ There is no time,” she said, “to indulge this whim. 
Would you mock me, Leander ? Ha ! did I not say so ! 
Listen ! ” 

The private bell was ringing loudly. Leander rushed 
to the window, but saAV no one. Then he heard the clang 
of the shop bell, as if the person 'or persons liad discov- 
ered that an entrance was possible there. 

“ The guards ! ” said the statue. “ Will you wait for them, 
Leander ? ” 


126 


THE TINl'ED VENUS, 


“ No ! ” he cried. . “ Never mind what I said about the 
ring ; I’ll risk that. Only — only, don’t go away without 
me. . . . Tell me what to say, and I’ll say it, and chance 
the consequences ! ” 

“ Say : ‘Aphrodite, daughter of Olympian Zeus, I yield ; 
I fulfil my pledge ; I am thine ! ’ ” 

“Well,” he thought, “ here goes. Oh, Matilda, you’re re- 
sponsible for this ! ” And he advanced toward the white 
extended arms of the goddess. There were hasty steps out- 
side ; another moment and the door would be burst open. 

“ Aphrodite, daughter of ” he began, and recoiled 

suddenly ; for he heard his name called from without in a 
voice familiar and once dear to him. 

“ Leander, where are you ? It’s all dark ! Speak to me ; 
tell me you’ve done nothing rash ! Oh, Leander, it’.s Ma- 
tilda ! ” . 

That voice, which a short while back he would have 
given the world to hear once more, appalled him now. 
For if she came in the goddess would discover who she 
was, and then — he shuddered to think what might happen 
then ! 

Matilda’s hand was actually on the door. “ Stop where 
you are ! ” he shouted, in despair ; “for mercy’s sake, don’t 
come in ! ” 

“ Ah ! you are there, and alive ! ” she cried. “ I am not 
too late ; and I will come in ! ” 

And in another instant she burst into the room, and 
stood there, her tear-stained face convulsed with the horror 
at finding him in such company. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

THE THIRTEENTH TRUMP. 

“ Your adversary, having thus secured the lead with the last trump, you 
will be powerless to prevent the bringing-in of the long suit.” 

— Rough’s Guide to Whist. 

“ What ! thinkest thou that utterly in vain 
Jove is my sire, and in despite my will 
That thou canst mock me with thy beauty still ? ” 

— '^tory of Cupid and Psyche. 

Leander, when he wrote his distracted appeal to Matilda, 
took it for granted that she had recognized the statue for 
something of a supernatural order, and this, combined 


THE rJiVrED VENUS. 


127 


with his perplexed state of mind, caused him to be less 
explicit than he might have been in referring to the god- 
dess’s ill-timed appearance. 

But, unfortunately, as will probably have been already 
anticipated, the only result of this reticence was, tliat Ma- 
tilda saw in his letter an abject entreaty for her consent 
to his marriage with Ada Parkinsoti, to avoid legal pro- 
ceedings, and, under this misapprehension, she wrote the 
line that abandoned all claims upon him, and then went on 
with her accounts, which were not so neatly kept that day 
as usual. 

What she felt most keenly in Leander’s conduct was, 
that he should have placed the ring, which to all intent 
was her own, upon the finger of another. She could not 
bear to think of so unfeeling an act, and yet she thought 
of it all through the long day as she sat, outwardly serene, 
at her high desk, while the attendants at her side made up 
sprays for dances and wreaths for funerals from the same 
flowers. 

And at last she felt herself urged to a course which, in 
her ordinary mind, she would have shrunk from as a low- 
ering of her personal dignity ; she would go and see her 
rival, and insist that this particular humiliation should be 
spared her. The ring was not Leander’s to dispose of — at 
least, to dispose of thus ; it was not right that any but her- 
self should wear it ; and though the token could never 
now be devoted to its rightful use, she wmnted to save it 
from what, in her eyes, was a kind of profanation. 

She would not own it to herself, but there was a motive 
stronger than all this — the desire to relieve her breast of 
some of tlie indignation which was choking her, and of 
which her pride forbade any betrayal to Leander himself. 

This othej- woman had supplanted her ; but she should 
be made to feel the w’rong she had done, and her triumph 
should be tempered with shame, if she were capable of 
such a sensation. Matilda knew very well that the ring 
was not hers, and she wanted it no longer ; but, then, it 
was Miss Tweddle’s, and she would claim it in her name. 

She easily obtained permission to leave somewhat earlier 
that evening, as she did not often ask such favors, and soon 
found herself at Madame Chenille’s establishment, where 
she remembered to have heard from Bella that her sister 
was employed. 

She asked for the forewoman, and begged to be allowed 
to speak to Miss Parkinson in private fora very few min- 


128 


THE TINTED VENUS. 


utes ; but the forewoman referred her to the proprietress, 
who made objections ; such a thing was never permitted 
during business hours, the shop would close in an hour, 
till then Miss Parkinson was engaged in the show-room, 
and so on. 

But Matilda carried her point at last, and was shown to 
a room in the basement, where the assistants took their 
meals, there to wait until Miss Parkinson could be spared 
from her duties. 

Matilda waited in the low, dingy roomi, where the tea- 
things were still littering the table, and as she paced rest- 
lessly about, trying to feel an interest in the long-discarded 
fashion-plates which adorned the walls, her anger began to 
cool, and give place to something very like nervousness. 

She wished she had not come. What, after all, was she 
to say to this girl when they met ? And what was Leander 
— base and unworthy as he had shown himself — to her any 
longer ? Why should she care what he chose to do with 
the ring ? And he would be told of her visit, and think — 
No ! that was intolerable : she would not gratify his van- 
ity and humble herself in this way. She would slip quietly 
out, and leave her rival to enjoy her victory ! 

But just as she was going to carry out this intention, the 
door opened, and a short, dark young woman appeared. 

Pm told there was a young person asking to speak to 
me,” she said : “ Pm Ada Parkinson.” 

At the name Matilda’s heart swelled again with the sense 
of her injuries : and yet she was unprepared for the face 
that met her eyes. Surely her rivml had both looked and 
spoken differently the night before ? And yet, she had 
been so agitated that very likely her recollections were not 
to be depended upon. 

“ I — I did want to see you,” she said, an'd her voice 
sliook, as much from timidity as righteous indignation. 
“ When I tell you who I am, perhaps you will guess why. 
I am Matilda Collum.” 

Miss Parkinson showed no symptoms of remorse. 

“ What ! ” siie cried, “ the young lady that Mr. Tweddle 
is courting ? F'ancy I ” 

“ After wliat happened last night,” said Matilda, trem- 
bling exceedingly, “you know that that is all over. I 
didn’t come to talk about that. If you knew — and I think 
you must have known — all that Mr. Tweddle was to me, 
you liave — ^you have not behaved very well ; but he is 
nothing to me any more, and it is not worth while to be 


THE TIATTED FENCES. 


129 


angry. Only, I don’t think you ought to keep the ring — 
not that ring ! ” 

“Goodness gracious me!” cried Ada. “What in the 
world is all this about ? What ring oughtn’t I to keep ?” 

“You know !” retorted Matilda. “How can you pre- 
tend like that? The ring he gave you that night at 
Rosherwich ? ” 

“ The girl is mad 1 ” exclaimed the other. “ He never 
gave me a ring in all his life ! I wouldn’t have taken it, if 
he’d asked me ever so. Mr. Tweddle, indeed!” 

“Why do you say that?” said Matilda. “ He has not 
got it himself, and your sister said he gave it to you, and 
— and I saw it with my own eyes on your hand ! ” 

“ Oh, dear' me ! ” said Ada, petulantly, holding out her 
hand, “ look there — is that it ? — is this ? Well, these are 
all I have, wdiether you believe me or not ; one belonged 
to poor mother, and the other was a present, only last 
Friday, from the gentleman that’s their head traveller next 
door, and is going to be my husband. Is it likely I should 
be wearing any other now ? — ask yourself ! ” 

“ You wouldn’t wish to deceive me, I hope,” said Matil- 
da; “and oh ! Miss Parkinson, you might be open with me, 
for I’m so very miserable ! I don’t know what to think. 
Tell me just this: did you — wasn’t it you who came last 
night to Miss Tweddle ?” 

“ No ! ” returned Ada, impatiently — “ no, as many times 
as you please ! And if Bella likes to say I did, sh? ^ • 
and she always was a mischief-making thing ! How could 
I, when I didn’t'know there was any Miss Tweddle to come 
to ? And what do you suppose I should go running about 
after Mr. Tweddle for ? I wonder you’re not ashamed to 
say such things ! ” 

“But,” faltered Matilda, “you did go to those gardens 
with him, didn’t you ? And — and I know he gave the ring 
to somebody ! 

Ada began to laugh. “You’re quite correct, MissCollum,” 
she said ; “so he did. Don’t you want to know who he 
gave it to ? ” 

“ Yes,” said Matilda, “ and you will tell me. I have a right 
to be told. I was engaged to him, and the ring was given 
to him for me — not for any one else. You will tell me, Miss 
Parkinson, I am sure you will ?” 

“ Well,” said Ada, still laughing, “ I’ll tell you this much 
— she’s a foreign lady, very stiff and stuck-up and cold; 
She’s got it, if anyone has. I saw it put it on myself ! ” 

9 


130 


THE TINTED FENDS. 


“Tell me her name, if you know it.” ^ 

“ I see you won’t be easy till you know all about it. Her 
name’s Afriddity, or Froddity, or something outlandish like 
that. She lives at Rosherwich, a good deal in the open air, 
and— there, don’t be ridiculous — it’s only 2 . statue ! There’s 
a pretty thing to be jealous of ! ” 

“ Only a statue !” echoed Matilda. “Oh! Heaven be 
with us both, if — ^^if that was It ! ” 

Certain sentences in the letter she had returned came to 
her mind with a new and dreadful significance. The ap- 
pearance of the visitor last night — Leander’s terror — all 
seemed to point to some unsuspected mystery. 

“ It can’t be — no, it can’t ! Miss Parkinson, you were 
there : tell me all that happened, quick ! You don’t know 
what may depend on it ! ” 

“ What ! not satisfied even now ? ” cried Ada. “ Well^ 
Miss Collum, talk about jealousy ! But, there, I’ll tell you 
all I know myself.” 

And she gave the whole account of the episode with the 
statue, so far as she knew it, even to the conversation which 
led to the production of the ring. 

“ You see,” she concluded, “ that it was all on your ac- 
count that he tried it on at all, and I’m sure he talked 
enough about you all the evening. I really was a little 
surprised when I found you were his Miss Collum. (You 
won’t mind my saying so ?) If I was you, I should go and 
tell him I forgave him, now. I do think he deserves it, 
poor little man ! ” 

“Yes, yes 1 ” cried Matilda; “I’ll go — I’ll go at once 1 
“Thank you. Miss Parkinson, for telling me what you 
have ! ” And then, as she remembered some dark hints in 
Leander’s letter : “ Oh, I must make haste! He may be 
going to do something desperate — he may have done it al- 
ready 1 ” 

And leaving Miss Parkinson to speculate as she pleased 
concerning her eccentricity, she went out into the broad 
street again ; and, unaccustomed as she was to such ex- 
penditure, hailed a hansom ; for there was no time to be 
lost. 

She had told the man to drive to the Southampton Row 
Passage at first, but, as she drew nearer, she changed her 
purpose ; she did not like to go alone, for who knows what 
she might see there ? It was out of the question to expect 
her mother to accompany her, but her friend and landlady 
would not refuse to do so ; and she drove to Millman 


THE TINTED VENUS. 


131 

Street, and prevailed on Miss Tweddle to come with her 
without a moment's delay. 

The two women found the shop dark, but unshuttered ; 
there was a light in the upper room. “You stay down 
here, please,” said Matilda; “ if— if anything is wrong, I 
will call you.” And Miss Tweddle, without very well un- 
derstanding what it was all about, and feeling fluttered and 
out of breath, was willing enough to sit down in the saloon 
and recover herself. 

And so it came to pass that Matilda burst into the room 
just as the hair-dresser was preparing to pronounce the in- 
evitable words that would complete the goddess’s power. 
He stood there, pale and dishevelled, with eyes that were 
wild and bordered with red. Opposite to him was the 
being she had once mistaken for a fellow-creature. 

Too well she saw now that the tall and queenly form, 
with the fixed eyes and cold tinted mask, was inspired by 
nothing human ; and her heart died within her as she 
gazed, spellbound, upon her formidable riv’^al. 

“ Leander,” she murmured, supporting herself against 
the frame of the door, “what are you going to do ?” 

“Keep back, Matilda!” he cried, desperately,* “go 
away — it’s too late now 1 ” 

A moment before, and, deserted as. he believed himself 
to be by love and fortune alike, he had been almost re- 
signed to the strange and shadowy future which lay before 
him ; but now — now that he saw Matilda there in his 
room, no longer scornful or indifferent, but pale and 
concerned, her pretty gray eyes dark and wide with 
anguish and fear for him— he felt all he was giving up ; he 
had a sudden revulsion, a violent repugnance to his doom. 

She loved him still ! She had repented for some reason. 
Oh ! why had she not done so before ? What could he do 
now ? For her own sake he must steel himself to tell her 
to leave him to his fate ; for he knew well that if the god- 
dess were to discover Matilda’s real relations to him it 
might cost his innocent darling her life ! 

For the moment he rose above his ordinary level. He 
lost all thought of self. Let Aphrodite take him if she 
would, but Matilda must be saved. “Go away!” he re- 
peated ; and his voice was cracked and harsh, under the 
strain of doing such violence to his feelings. “Can’t you 
see you’re — you’re not wanted ? Oh, do go away — while 
you can ! ” 

Matilda closed the door behind her. “Do you think,” 


32 


THE TINTED TENDS. 


she said, catching her breath painfully, “ that I shall go 
away and leave you with That ! ” 

“ Leander,” said the statue, “command your sister to 
depart ! ” 

“ I’m not his ” — Matilda was beginning impetuously, till 
the hair-dresser stopped her. 

“ You are ! ” he cried. “ You know you’re my sister—^ 
you’ve forgotten it, that’s all. . . . Donh say a syllable 

now, do you hear me ? She’s going, Lady Venus, going 
directly ! ” 

“ Indeed I’m not,” said Matilda, bravely. 

“ Leave us, maiden ! ” said the statue. “ Your brother is 
yours no longer, he is mine. Know you who it is that 
commands ? Tremble, then, nor oppose the will of Aphro- 
dite of the radiant eyes!” 

“ I never heard of you before,” said Matilda, “ but I’m 
not afraid of you. And, whoever or whatever you are, 
you sliall not take my Leander away against his will. Do 
you hear? You could never be allowed to do that 1” 

The statue smiled with pitying scorn. “ His own act 
has given me the power I hold,” she said, “and assuredly 
he shall not escape me 1 ” 

“ Listen,” pleaded Matilda ; “perhaps you are not really 
wicked, it is only that you don’t know ! The ring he put — 
without ever thinking what he was doing — on your finger 
was meant for mine. It was, really ! He is my lover ; 
give him back to me !” 

“Matilda!” shrieked the wretched man, “you don’t 
know what you’re doing. Run away, quick ! Do as I tell 
you ! ” 

“So,” said the goddess, turning upon him, “in this, too, 
you have tried to deceive me ! You have loved — you still 
love — this maiden ! ” 

“ Oh, not in that way ! ” he shouted, overcome by his 
terror for Matilda. “ There’s some mistake. You mustn’t 
pay any attention to what she says : she’s excited. All 
my sisters get like that when they’re excited — they’d say 
anything ! ” 

“Silence!” commanded the statue. “Should not I 
have skill to read the signs of love ? This girl loves you 
with no sister’s love. Deny it not ! ” 

Leander felt that his position was becoming untenable ; 
he could only save Matilda by a partial abandonment. 
“Well, suppose she does,” he said, “I’m not obliged to re- 
turn it, am I ? ” 


7'HE TIN'ERD VENUS. 


133 


Matilda shrank back. “ Oh, Leander ! ” she cried, with 
a piteous little moan. 

“You’ve brought it on yourself?” he said; “you will 
come here interfering ! ” 

“ Interfering !” she repeated, wildly, “you call it that ! 
How can I help myself ! Am I to stand by and see you 
giving yourself up to, nobody can tell what ? As long as 
I have strength to move and breath to speak I shall stay 
here, and beg and pray of you not to be so foolish and 
wicked as to go away with her ! How do you know where 
she will take you to ? ” 

“ Cease this railing ! ” said the statue. “ Leander loves 
you not ! Away, then, before I lay you dead at my feet ! ” 

“ Leander,” cried the poor girl, “ tell me : it isn’t true 
what she says! You didn’t mean it ! you do love me. 
You don’t really want me to go away ? ” 

For her own sake he must be cruel ; but he could 
scarcely speak the words that were to drive her from 
his side forever. “This — this lady,” he said, “speaks 
quite correct. I — I’d very much rather you went ! ” 

She drew a deep, sobbing breath. “ I don’t care for 
anything any more ! ” she said, and faced the statue de- 
fiantly. You say you can strike me dead,” she said ; “I’m 
sure I hope you can ! And the sooner the better — for I 
will not leave this room 1 ” 

The dreamy smile still curved the statue’s lips, in terri- 
ble contrast to the inflexible purpose of her next words. 

“You have called down your own destruction,” she 
said, “ and death shall be yours! ” 

“ Stop a bit,” cried Leander, “ mind what you’re doing ! 
Do you think I’ll go with you if you touch a single hair of 
my poor Tillie’s head ? Why, I’d sooner stay in prison all 
^my life ! See here,” and he put his arm round Matilda’s 
slight form ; “ if you crush her, you crush me — so now ! ” 

“ And if so,” said the goddess, with cruel contempt, 
“ are you of such value in my sight that I should stay my 
hand ? You, whom I have sought but to manifest my 
power, for no softer feelings have you ever inspired ! And 
now, having withstood me for so long, you turn, even at 
the moment of yielding, to yonder creature ! And it is 
enough. I will contend no longer for so mean a prize ! 
Slave and fool that you have shown yourself, Aphrodite 
rejects you in disdain ! ” 

Leander made no secret of his satisfaction at this. 
“ Now you talk sense ! ” he cried ; “ I always told you we 


134 


THE TINTED VENUS, 


weren’t suited. Tillie, do you hear ? She gives me up ! 
She gives me up ! ” 

“Aye,” she continued, “I need you not. Upon you 
and the maiden by your side I invoke a speedy and terri- 
ble destruction, which, ere you can attempt to flee, shall 
surely overtake you ! ” 

Leander was so overcome, by this highly unexpected 
sentence that he lost all control over his limbs ; he could 
only stand where he was, supporting Matilda, and stare at 
the goddess in fascinated dismay. 

The goddess was raising both hands, palm upward, to 
the ceiling, and presently she began to chant in a thrilling 
monotone : “Hear, O Zeus, that sittest on high, delight- 
ing in the thunder, hear the prayer of thy daughter. Aph- 
rodite the peerless, as she calleth upon thee, nor suffer 
her to be set at naught with impunity ! Rise now, I be- 
seech thee, and hurl with thine unerring hand a blazing 
bolt that shall consume these presumptuous insects to a 
smoking cinder ! Blast them. Sire, with the fire-wreaths 
of thy lightning ! blast, and spare not ! ” 

“ Kiss me, Tillie, and shut your eyes,” said Leander ; 
“ it’s coming ! ” 

She was nestling close against him, and could not re- 
press a faint, shivering moan. “ I don’t mind, now we’re 
together,” she whispered, “ if only it won’t hurt much ! ” 

The prayer uttered with such deadly intensity had al- 
most ceased to vibrate in their ears, but still the an- 
swer tarried ; it tarried so long that Leander lost patience, 
and ventured to open his eyes a little way. He saw the 
goddess standing there, with a strained expectation on her 
upturned face. 

“ I don’t wish to hurry you, mum,” he said, tremulously ; 
“ but you ought to be above torturing us. Might I ask 
you to request your — your relation to look sharp with that 
thunderbolt ?” 

“ Zeus ! ” cried the goddess, and her accent was more 
acute, “thou hast heard — thou wilt not shame me thus! 
Must I go unavenged ?” 

Still nothing whatever happened, until at last even Ma- 
tilda unclosed her eyes. “Leander!” she cried, with a 
hysterical little laugh, '‘N don't believe she ca7i do it !" 

“No more don’t I !” said the hair-dresser, withdrawing 
his arm, and coming forward boldly. “ Now look here. 
Lady Venus,” he remarked, “ it’s time there was an end 
of this, one way or the other ; we can’t be kept up here all 


THE TINTED TENDS. 


135 

night, waiting till it suits your Mr. Zooce to make cock- 
shies of us. Either let him do it now, or let it alone ! ” 

The statue’s face seemed to be illumined by a stronger 
light. “Zeus, I thank thee!” she exclaimed, clasping her 
pale hands above her head ; “ I am answered ! I am an- 
swered ! ” 

And, as she spoke, a dull, ominous rumble was heard in 
the distance. 

“Matilda, here!” cried the terrified hair-dresser, run- 
ning back to his betrothed ; “ keep close to me. It’s all 
over this time ! ” 

The rumble increased to a roll, which became a clank- 
ing rattle, and then lessened again to a roll, died away to 
the original rumble, and was heard no more. 

Leander breathed again. “ To think of my being taken 
in like that ! ” he cried. “ Why, it’s only a van out in the 
street ! It’s no good, mum ; you can’t work it ; you’d bet- 
ter give it up ! ” 

The goddess seemed to feel this herself, for she was 
wringing her hands with a low wail of despair. “ Is 
there none to hear?” she lamented. “Are they all gone 
— all ? Then is Aphrodite fallen indeed ; deserted of the 
gods, her kinsmen ; forgotten of mortals ; braved and 
mocked by such as these ! Woe ! woe ! for Olympus in 
ruins, and Time the dethroner of deities !” 

Leander would hardly have been himself if he had for- 
borne to take advantage of her discomfiture. “You 
see, mum,” he said, “you’re not everybody. You mustn’t 
expect to have everything your own way down here. 
We’re in the nineteenth century nowadays, mum, and 
there’s another religion come in since you were the fash- 
ion ! ” 

^^Doni^ Leander!” said Matilda, in an undertone; “let 
her alone, the poor thing ! ” .She seemed to have quite 
forgotten that her fallen enemy had been dooming her to 
destruction the moment before ; but there was something 
so tragic and moving in the sight of such despair that no 
true woman could be inditlerent to it. 

Either the taunt or the compassion, however, roused the 
goddess to a frenzy of passion. “Hold your peace ! ” she 
said, fiercely, and strode down upon Leander until he 
beat an instinctive retreat. “ Fallen as I am, I will not 
brook your mean vauntings or insolent pity ! Shorn I 
may be of my ancient power, but something of my divin- 
ity cleaves to me still. Vengeance is- not wholly denied 


136 • THE TINTED VENUS. 

to me ! Why should I not deal with you even as with 
those profane wretches who laid impious hands upon this 
my effigy ? Why ? why ? ” 

Leander began to feel uncomfortable again. “ If I’ve 
said anything you object to,” he said, hastily, “ I’ll apolo- 
gize. I will — and so will Matilda — freely and full ; in 
writing, if that will satisfy you ! ” 

“Tremble not for your worthless bodies,” she said; 
“ had you been slain, as I purposed, you would but have 
escaped me, after all ! Now, a vengeance keener and 
more enduring shall be mine ! In your gross blindness, 
you have dared to turn from divine Aphrodite to such a 
thing as this, and for your impiety you shall suffer ! This 
is your doom, and so much at least I can still accomplish : 
Long as you both may live, strong as your love may en- 
dure, never again shall you see her alone, never more 
shall she be folded to your breast ! Forever, I will stand 
a barrier between you ; so shall your days consume away in 
the torturing desire for a felicity you may never attain ! ” 
“It seems to me, Tillie,” said Leander, looking round 
at her with hollow eyes, “ that we may as well give up 
keeping company together, after that ! ” 

Matilda had been weeping quietly. “ Oh, no, Leander, 
not that ! Don’t let us give each other up : we may — “we 
may get used to it ! ” 

“That is not all,” said the revengeful goddess. “I un- 
derstand blit little of the ways of this degenerate age. But 
one thing I know : this very night, guards are on their 
way to search this abode for the image in which I have 
chosen to reveal myself ; and, should they find that they 
are in search of, you will be dragged to some dungeon 
and suffer deserved ignominy. It pleased me yesternight 
to shield you : to-night, be very sure that this marble form 
shall not escape their vigilance ! ” 

He felt at once that this, at least, was no idle threat. 
The police might arrive at any instant ; she had only to 
vacate the marble at the moment of their entry — and what 
could he do ? How could he explain its presence ? The 
gates of Portland or Dartmoor were already yawning to 
receive him ! Was it too late, even then, to" retrieve the 
situation ? “ If it wasn’t for Tillie, I could see my way to 

something, even now,” he thought. “ I can but try !” 

“ Lady Venus,” he began, clearing his throat, “ it’s not 
my desire to be the architect of any mutual unpleasant- 
ness — anything but ! I don’t see any use in denying that 


THE TINTED VENUS. 


nr 


you’ve got the best of it. I’m done— reg’lar bowled over ; 
and if ever there was a poor devil of a toad under a harrer, 
I’ve no hesitation in admitting that toad’s me ! So the 
only point I should like to submit for your consideration 
is. this: Have things gone too far? Are you quite sure 
you won’t be spiting yourself as well as me over this busi- 
ness ? Can’t we come to an amicable arrangement ? 
Think it over ! ” 

“ Leander, you can’t mean it ! ” cried Matilda. 

“ You leave me alone.” he said, hoarsely ; ‘‘ I know what 
I’m saying ! ” 

Whether the goddess had overstated her indifference, or 
whether she may have seen a prospect of some still subtler 
revenge, she certainly did not receive this proposition of 
Leander’s with the contumely that might have been ex- 
pected ; on the contrary, she smiled with a triumphant 
satisfaction that betrayed a disposition to treat. 

“ Have my words been fulfilled, then ?” she asked. “ Is 
your insolent pride humbled at last ? and do you sue to me 
for the very favors you so long have spurned ? ” 

. “You can put it that way if you like,” he said, doggedly. 
“ If you want me, you’d better say so while there’s time, 
that’s all ! ” 

“ Little have you merited such leniency,” she said ; 
“ and yet, it is to you I owe my return to life and con- 
sciousness. Shall I abandon what I have taken such pains 
to win ? No ! I accept your submission. Speak, then, the 
words of surrender, and let us depart together ! ” 

“ Before I do that,” he said, firmly, “ there’s one point I 
must have settled to my satisfaction.” 

“ You can bargain still ! ” she exclaimed, haughtily. 
“Are all barbers like you? If your point concerns the 
safety of this maiden, be at ease ; she shall go unharmed, 
for she is my rival no longer ! ” 

“Well, it wasn’t that exactly,” he explained ; “but I’m 
doubtful about that ring being the genuine article, and I 
want to make sure.” 

“ But a short time since, and you were willing to trust 
all to me ! ” 

“ I w’as ; but, if I may take the liberty of observing so, 
things were different then. You were wrong about that 
thunderbolt — you may be wrong about the ring ! ” 

“ Fool ! ” she said, “ how know you that the quality of 
the token concerns my power? Were it even of unworthy 
metal, has it not brought me hither ? ” 


138 


TlNl'ED VENUS. 


“ Yes,” he said, “but it mightn’t be strong enough to 
pass 7ne the whole distance, and where should I be then ? 
It don’t look more to me than 15 carat, and I daren’t run 
any extra risk ! ” 

“ How, then, can your doubts be set at rest?” she de- 
manded. 

“Easy,” he replied; “there are men who understand 
these things. All I ask of you is to step over with me, 
and see one of them, and take his opinion ; and if he says 
it’s gold — why, then I shall know where I am!” 

“Aphrodite submit her claims to the judgment of a 
mortal ! ” she cried. “ Never will I thus debase myself ! ” 
“Very well,” he said, “ then we must stay where we are. 
All I can say is, I’ve made you a fair offer.” 

She paused. “ Why not ? ” she said, dreamily, as if think- 
ing aloud. “ Have not I sued ere this for the decision of a 
shepherd judge — even of Paris ? ’Tis but one last indignity, 
and then — he is mine indeed 1 Leander,” she added, gra- 
ciously, “ it shall be as you will. Lead the way ; I follow 1 ” 
But Matilda, who had been listening to this compromise 
with incredulous horror, clung in desperation to her lover’s 
arm, and sought to impede his flight. “Leander,” she 
cried, “oh, Leander! surely you won’t be mad enough to 
go away with her ! You won’t be so wicked and sinful as 
that ! Remember who she is : one of the false gods of the 
poor benighted heathens — she owned it herself ! She’s 
nothing less than a live idol ! Think of all the times we’ve 
been to chapel together ; think of your dear aunt, and 
how she’ll feel your being in such awful company ! Let 
the police come, and think what they like : we’ll tell them 
the truth, and make them believe it. Only be brave, and 
stay here with me ; don’t let her ensnare you ! Have 
some pity for me ; for, if you leave me, I shall die ! ” 

“ Already the guards are at your gates,” said the statue ; 
“ choose quickly — while you may ! ” 

He put Matilda gently from him. “ Tillie,” he said, with 
a convulsive effort to remain calm, “you gave me up of 
your own free will — you know that — and now you’ve come 
round too late. The other lady spoke first ! ” 

As she still clung to him, he tried to whisper some last 
words of a consoling or reassuring nature, and she sud- 
denly relaxed her grasp, and allowed him to make his es- 
cape without further dissuasion — not that his arguments 
had reconciled her to his departure, but because she was 
mercifully unaware of it. 


THE TINTED VENDS. 


139 


CHAPTER XV. 

THE ODD TRICK. 

“ O heart of stone, are you flesh, and caught 
By that you swore to withstand ? ” — Maud. 

Outside on the stairs Leander suddenly remembered 
that his purpose might be as far as ever from being accom- 
plished. The house was being watched : to be seen leav- 
ing it would procure his instant arrest. 

Hastily excusing himself to the goddess, he rushed down 
to his laboratory, where he knew there was a magnificent 
beard and moustache which he had been constructing for 
some amateur theatricals. With these, and a soft felt hat, 
he completed a disguise in which he flattered himself he 
was unrecognizable. 

The goddess, however, penetrated it as soon as he re- 
joined her. “Why have you thus transformed yourself ?” 
she inquired, coldly. 

“ Because,” explained Leander, “ seeing the police are 
all on the look-out for me, I thought it couldn’t do any 
harm ! ” 

“ It is useless ! ” she returned. 

“ To be sure,” he agreed, blankly, “ they’ll expect me to 
go out disguised. If only they aren’t up to the way out 
by the back ! That’s our only chance now.” 

“ Leave all to me,” she replied, calmly ; “ with Aphrodite 
you are safe ! ” 

And he never did quite understand how that strange 
elopement was effected, or even remember whether they 
left the house from the front or rear. The statue glided 
swiftly on, and, grasping a corner of her robe, he followed, 
with only the vaguest sense of obstacles overcome and 
passed as in a dream. 

By the time he had completely regained his senses he 
was in a crowded thoroughfare, which he recognized as the 
Gray’s Inn Road. 

A certain scheme from which, desperate as it was, he 
hoped much, might be executed as well here as elsewhere, 
and he looked about him for the aid upon which he counted. 

“ Where, then, lives the wise man whom you would con- 
sult ? ” said Aphrodite. 


140 


THE TINTED FENDS. 


Leander went on until he could see the colored lights 
of a chemist’s window, and then he said, “There — right 
opposite ! ” 

He felt strangely nervous himself, but the goddess seemed 
even more so. She hung back all at once, and clutched 
his arm in her marble grasp. “ Leander,” she said, “ I will 
not go ! See those liquid fires glowing in lurid hues, like 
the eyes of some dread monster ! This test of yours is 
needless, and I fear it ! ” 

“ Lady Venus,” he said earnestly. “ I do assure you 
they’re only big bottles, and quite harmless too, having 
water in them, not physic : you’ve no call to be alarmed ! ” 

She yielded, and they crossed the road. The shop was 
small and unpretending. In the window the chief orna- 
ments were speckled plaster limbs clad in elastic socks, 
and photographs of hideous complaints before and after 
treatment with a celebrated ointment ; and there were cer- 
tain trophies which indicated that the chemist numbered 
dentistry among his accomplishments. 

Inside, the odor of drugs prevailed, in the absence of the 
subtle perfume that is part of the fittings of a fashionable 
apothecary, and on the very threshold the goddess paused 
irresolute. 

“ There is magic in the air,” she exclaimed, “ and fearful 
poisons ; this man is some enchanter ! ” 

“Now I put it to you,” said Leander, with some im- 
patience, “ does he look it ? ” 

The chemist was a mild little man with a high forehead, 
round spectacles, a little red beak of a nose, and a weak 
gray beard. As they entered, he was addressing a small 
and draggled child from behind his counter. “ Go back 
and tell your mother,” he said, “ that she must come her- 
self. I never sell paregoric to children.” 

There was so little of the wizard in his manner that the 
goddess, who possibly had some reason to mistrust a mor- 
tal magician, was reassured. 

As the child retired, the chemist turned to them with a 
look of bland and dignified inquiry (something, perhaps 
the consciousness of having once passed an examination, 
susta,ins the meekest chemist in an inward superiority). 
He did not speak. 

Leander took it upon himself to explain. “This lady 
would be glad to be told whether a ring she’s got on is the 
real article or only imitation,” he said, “so she thought you 
could decide it for her.” 


THE TINTED FENDS. 


141 

“ Not SO,” corrected the goddess, austerely ; “for myself 
I care not ! ” 

“ Have it your own way ! ” said Leander ; “/should like 
to be told, then. I suppose, mister, you’ve some way of 
testing these things ? ” 

“ Oh, yes ! ” said the chemist, “ I can treat it for you 
with what we call aquafortis^ a combination of nitric and 
hydrochloric acid, which would tell us at once. I ought 
to mention, perhaps, that so extremely powerful an agent 
may injure the appearance of the metal if it is of inferior 
quality. Will the lady oblige me with the ring ? ” 

Aphrodite extended her hand with haughty indifference. 
The chemist examined the ring as it circled her finger, and 
Leander held his breath in tortures of anxiety. A horrible 
fear came over him that his deep-laid scheme was about to 
end in failure ! 

But the chemist remarked at last : “ Exactly ; thank you, 
madam. The gold is antique, certainly ; but I should be 
inclined to pronounce it, at first sight, genuine. I will as- 
certain how this is, if you will take the trouble to remove 
the ring and pass it over ! ” 

“Why?” demanded Aphrodite, obstinately. 

“I could not undertake to treat it while it remains upon 
your hand,” he protested ; “ the acid might do some in- 
jury ! ” 

“It matters not ! ” she said, calmly ; and Leander rec- 
ollected with horror that, as any injury to her statue would 
have no physical effect upon the goddess herself, she could 
not be much influenced by the chemist’s reason. 

“ Do what the gentleman tells you^” he said, in an eager 
whisper, as he drew her aside. 

“ I know your wiles, O perfidious one,” she said ; “ hav- 
ing induced me to remove this token, you would seize it 
yourself and take to flight ! I will not remove this ring ! ” 

“ There’s a thing to say ! ” exclaimed Leander, “ there’s 
a suspicion to throw against a man ! If you think I’m 
likely to do that. I’ll go right over here, where I can’t even 
see It, and I won’t stir out till it’s all over. Will that 
satisfy you ? You know why I’m so anxious about that 
ring ; and now, when the gentleman tells you he’s almost 
sure it’s gold ” 

“ It is gold ! ” said the goddess. 

“ If you’re so sure about it,” he retaliated, “ why are you 
afraid to have it proved ? ” 

“ I am not afraid,” she said ; “but I require no proof!” 


142 


THE TINTED VENDS. 


“ I do,” he retorted, “and what I told you before I stand 
to. If that ring is proved — in the only way it can be 
proved, I mean, by this gentleman testing it as he tells you 
he can — then there’s no more to be said, and I’ll go away 
with you like a lamb. But without that proof I won’t stir 
a step, and so I tell you. It won’t take a moment. You 
can see for yourself that I couldn’t possibly catch up the 
ring from here ! ” 

“ Swear to me,” she said, “ that you will remain where 
you now stand; and remember,” she added, with an accent 
of triumph, “ our compact is that, should yonder man 
pronounce that the ring has passed through the test with 
honor, you will follow me whithersoever I bid you ! ” 

“ You have only to lead the way,” he said, “ and I prom- 
ise you faithfully I’ll follow ! ” 

, Goddesses may be credited with some knowledge of the 
precious metals, and Aphrodite had no doubt of the result 
of the chemist’s investigations ; so it was with’ an air of 
serene anticipation that she left Leander upon this,"^ and 
advanced to the chemist’s counter. 

“ Prove it now,” she said, “ quickly, that I may go ! ” 

The chemist, who had been waiting in considerable be- 
wilderment, prepared himself to receive the ring, and 
Leander, keeping his distance, felt his heart beating fast 
as Aphrodite slowly drew the token from her finger, and 
placed it in the chemist’s outstretched hand. 

Scarcely had she done so, as the chemist was retiring 
with the ring to one of his lamps, the goddess seemed sud- 
denly aware that she had committed a fatal error. 

She made a stride forward to follow and recover it ; but, 
as if some unseen force was restraining her, she stopped 
short, and a rush of whirling words, in some tongue un- 
known both to Leander and the chemist, forced its way 
through lips that smiled still, though they were freezing 
fast ! 

Then, with a strange, hoarse cry of baffled desire and 
revenge, she succeeded, by a violent effort, in turning, and 
bore down with tremendous force upon the cowering hair- 
dresser, who gave himself up at once for lost ! 

But the marble was already incapable of obeying her 
will. Within a few paces from him the statue stopped for 
the last time, with an abruptness that left it quivering and 
rocking ; a grayish hue came over the face, causing the 
borrowed tints to stand forth, crude and glaring ; the arms 
waved wildly and impotently once or twice, and then grew 


THE TINTED FENDS. 


143 


Still forever, in the attitude conceived long since by the 
Grecian sculptor ! 

Leander was free ! His hazardous experiment had suc- 
ceeded As it was the ring which had brought the pas- 
sionate, imperious goddess into her marble counterfeit, so 
— the ring once withdrawn — her power was instantly at an 
end, and the spell which had enabled her to assume a 
form of stone was broken. 

He had hoped for this, had counted upon it, but even 
yet hardly dared to believe in his deliverance. 

He had not done witli it yet, however ; for he would 
have to get the statue out of that shop, and abandon it in 
some manner which would not compromise himself, and it 
is by no means an easy matter to mislay a lifesize and in- 
valuable antique without attracting an inconvenient 
amount of attention. 

The chemist, who had been staring meanwhile in blank 
astonishment, now looked inquiringly at Leander, who 
looked helplessly at him. 

At last the latter, unable to be silent any longer, said, 
“The lady seems unwell, sir ! ” 

“ Why,” Leander admitted, “ she does appear a little out 
of sorts ! ” 

“ Has she had these attacks before, do you happen to 
know ? ” 

“She’s more often like this than not,” said Leander. 

“Dear me, sir ; but that’s very serious ! Is there noth- 
ing that gives relief ? — a little sal volatile, now ? Does the 
lady carry smelling salts ? If not, I could — ” And the 
chemist made an offer to come from behind his counter to 
examine the strange patient. 

“ No,” said Leander, hastily ; “ don’t you trouble — you 
leave her to me. I know how to manage her ; when she’s 
rigid like this, she can’t bear to be taken notice of.” 

He was wondering ail the time how he was to get away 
with her, until the chemist, who seemed at least as anxious 
for her departure, suggested the answer : “ I should 
imagine the poor lady would be best at home. Shall I 
send out for a cab ? ” he asked. 

“Yes,” said Leandei, gratefully; “bring a hansom; 
she’ll come round better in the open air ; ” for he had his 
doubts whether the statue could be stowed inside a four- 
wheeler. 

“ I’ll go myself,” said the obliging man ; “ my assistant’s 
out. Perhaps the lady will sit down till the cab comes ? ’’ 


144 


THE TINHED VENUS. 


“ Thanks,” said Leander ; “ but when she's like this, 
she’s been recommended to stand.” 

The chemist ran out bare-headed, to return presently 
with the cab and a small train of interested observers ; he 
offered the statue his arm to the cab-door, an attention 
which was naturally ignored. 

“ We shall have to carry her there,” said Leander. 

“Why, bless me, sir,” said the chemist, as he helped to 
lift her, “ she — she’s surprisingly heavy ! ” 

“Yes,” gasped Leander, over her unconscious shoulder; 
“ when she goes off in one of these sleeps, she does sleep 
very heavy an explanation which, if obscure, was ac- 
cepted by the other as part of the general strangeness of 
the case. 

On the threshold the chemist stopped again. “I’d al- 
most forgotten the ring,” he said. 

“/’// take that!” said Leander. 

“Excuse me,” was the objection, “but I was to give it 
back to the lady herself ; had I not better put it on her 
finger, don’t you think ? ” 

“ Are you a married man ? ” asked Leander, grimly. 

“Yes,” said the chemist. 

“ Then, if you’ll take my advice, I wouldn’t if I was you 
—if you’re at all anxious to keep out of trouble. You’d 
better give the ring to me, and I give you my Avord of 
honor as a gentleman that I’ll give it back to her as soon 
as ever she’s well enough to ask for it ! ” 

The other adopted the advice, and, amidst the sympathy 
of the bystanders, they got the statue into the cab. 

“ Where to ? ” asked the man through the trap. 

“ Charing Cross,” said Leander, at random ; he thought 
the drive would give him time for reflection. 

“ The ’orspital, eh ? ” said tlie cabman, and drove off, 
leaving the mild chemist to stare open-mouthed on the 
pavement for a moment, and go back to his shop with a 
growing sense that he had had a very unusual experience. 

Now that Leander was alone in the cab with the statue, 
whose attitude required space, and cramped him uncom- 
fortably, he wondered more and more what he was to do 
with it. He could not afford to drive about London for- 
ever with her ; he dared not take her home ; and he was 
afraid of being seen with her ! 

All at once he seemed to see a way out of his difficulty : 
his first step was to do what he could, in the constantly 
varying light, to reduce the statue to its normal state ; ho 


THE TINTED VENUS. 


145 

removed the curls which had disfigured her classical brow, 
and, with his pocket-handkerchief, rubbed most of the 
color from her face ; then the cloak had only to be torn 
off, and all that could betray him was gone. 

Near Charing Cross, Leander told the driver to take him 
down Parliament Street, and stop at the entrance to Scot- 
land Yard ; there the cabman, at Leander’s request, de- 
scended, and stared to find him huddled up under the 
gleaming pale arms of a statue. 

“ Guv’nor,” he remarked, “thatwarn’t the fare I took 
up. I’ll take my dying oath ! ” 

“ It’s all right,” said Leander. “Now, I tell you what I 
want you to do : go straight in through the archway, find 
a policeman, and say there’s a gentleman in your cab that’s 
found a valuable article that’s been missing, and wants as- 
sistance in bringing it in. I’ll take care of the cab, and 
here’s double fare for your trouble ! ” 

“And wuth it, too,” was the cabman’s comment, as he 
departed on his mission. “ I thought it was the devil I 
was a-drivin’, we was that down on the orf side ! ” 

It was no part of Leander’s programme to wait for his 
return ; he threw the cloak over his arm, pocketed his 
beard, and slipped out of the cab and across the road to a 
spot whence he could watch unseen. And when he had 
seen the cabman come out with two constables, he felt as- 
sured that his burden was in safe hands at last, and re- 
turned to Southampton Row as quickly as the next han- 
som he hailed could take him. 

He entered his house by the back entrance : it was un- 
guarded ; and although he listened long at the foot of the 
stairs, he heard nothing. Had the Inspector not come yet, 
or was there a trap ? As he went on, he fancied there were 
sounds in his sitting-room, and went up to the door and 
listened nervously before entering in. 

“ Oh, Miss Colluin, my poor dear ! ” a tremulous voice, 
which he recognized as his aunt’s, was saying, “for Mercy’s 
sake, don’t lie there like that ! Slie’s dying ! — and it’s my 
fault for letting her come here ! — and what am I to say to 
her ma ? ” 

Leander had heard enough ; he burst in, with a white, 
horror-stricken face. Yes, it was too true ! Matilda was 
lying back in his crazy arm-chair, her eyes fast closed, her 
lips parted. 

“Aunt,” he said, with difficulty, “she’s not — not dead?'* 
“If she is not,” returned his aunt, “it’s no thanks to 


ro 


46 


THE TINTED VENUS. 


you, Leandy Tweddle ! Go away — you can do no good to 
her now ! ” 

“ Not till I’ve heard her speak ! ” cried Tweddle. “ Til- 
lie, don’t you hear ? — it’s me ! ” 

To his immense relief, she opened her eyes at the sound 
of his voice, and turned away with a feeble gesture of fear 
and avoidance. “You have come back!” she moaned, 

“ and with her ! — oh, keep her away ! . . . I can’t bear 

it all over again ! . . . I can’t I ” 

He threw himself down by her chair, and drev/ down the 
hands in which she had hidden her face. “ Matilda, my 
poor, hardly-used darling!” he said, “I’ve come back 
alone ! — I’ve got rid of her, Tillie ! — I’m free ! — and there’s 
no one to stand between us any more ! ” 

She pushed back her disordered fair hair, and looked at 
him with sweet, troubled eyes. “ But you went away with 
her, forever ? ” she said ; “ you said you didn’t love me any 
longer. I heard you ... it was just before — ” and 
she shuddered at the recollection. 

“ I know,” said Leander, soothingly. “ I was obligated 
to speak harsh, to deceive the — the other party, Tillie. I 
tried to tell you, quiet-like, that you wasn’t to mind ; but 
you wouldn’t take no notice. But there, we won’t talk 
about it any more — so long as you forgive me ; and you 
do, don’t you ? ” 

She hid her face against his shoulder, in answer, from 
which he drew a favorable conclusion ; but Miss Tweddle 
was not so easily pacified. “ And is this all the explanation 
you’re going to give,” she demanded, “ for treating this 
poor child the way you’ve done, and neglecting her shame- 
ful like this? If she’s satisfied, Leandy, I’m not.” 

“ I can’t help it, aunt,” he said ; “ I’ve been true to' Til- 
lie all the way through, in spite of all appearances to the , 
contrary — as she knows now. And the more I explained, 
the less you’d understand about it ; so we’ll leave things 
where they are. But I’ve got back the ring, and now you 
shall see me put it on her finger ! ” 

It seemed that Leander had driven to Scotland Yard just" 
in time to save himself, for the Inspector did not make his 
threatened search that evening. 

Two or three days later, however, to Leander’s secret 
alarm, he entered the shop. After all, he felt, it was hope- 
less to think of deceiving these sleuth-hounds of the Law: 
this, detective had been making inquiries, and identified 


THE TINTED VENUS. 


147 

him as the man who had shared the hansom with that 
statue ! 

His knees trembled as he stood behind his glass-topped 
counter. “ Come to make the search, sir ? ” he said, as 
cheerfully as he could ; “ youll find us ready for you.” 

“Well,” said Inspector Bilbow, with a queer mixture of 
awkwardness and complacency, “ no, not exactly. Twed- 
ple, my good fellow, circumstances have recently assumed 
a shape that renders a search unnecessary, as perhaps you 
are aware ? ” 

He looked very hard at Tweddle as he spoke, ari^d the 
hair-dresser felt that this was a crucial moment — the de- 
tective was still uncertain whether he had been mixed up 
with the affair or not. Leander’s faculty of ready wit 
served him better here than on past occasions. 

“Aware ? No, sir ! ” he said, with admirable simplicity. 
“ Then that’s why you didn’t come the o^ther evening ! I 
sat up for you, sir ; all night I sat up.” 

“ The fact of the matter is, Tweddle,” said Bilbow, who 
had become suddenly affable and condescending, “ I found 
myself reduced, so to speak, to make use of you as a false 
clue, if you catch my meaning ? ” 

“ I can’t say I do quite understand, sir.” 

“ I mean — of course, I saw with half an eye, bless your 
soul — that you’d had nothing to do with it. It wasn’t likely 
that a poor chap like you had any knowledge of a big 
plant of that description. No, no ; don’t go away with 
that idea : I never associated you with it for a single in- 
stant ! ” 

“ I’m truly glad to hear it, Mr. Inspector,” said Leander. 

“It was owing to the line I took up ; there were the 
real parties to put off their guard, and to do that, Tweddle 
— to do that, it was necessary to appear to suspect you. 
D’ye see ? ” 

“ I think it was a little hard on me, sir,” he said ; “for 
being suspected like that hurts a man’s feelings, sir. I 
did feel wounded to have that cast up against me ! ” 

“ Wfell, well,” said the Inspector, “we’ll go into that 
later. But, to go on with what I was saying : my tactics, 
Tweddle, have been crowned with success — the famous 
Venus is now safe in my hands ! What do you say to 
that?” 

“ Say ? Why, what clever gentlemen you detective officers 
are, to be sure ! ” cried Leander. 

“Well, to be candid, there’s not many in the department 


148 


THE 7' I XT ED VEXES. 


that would have managed the job as neatly ; but then, it 
was a case I’d gone into, and thoroughly got up ! ” 

“That I am sure you must have done, sir,” agreed Le- 
ander. “ How ever did you come on it ? ” He felt a kind 
of curiosity to hear the answer. 

“ Tweddle,” was the solemn reply, “that is a thing you 
must be content to leave in its native mystery” (which Le- 
ander undoubtedly was). “ We in the Criminal Investiga- 
tion Department have our secret channels and our under- 
ground sources for obtaining information, but to lay those 
channels and sources bare to the public would serve no 
useful end, nor would it be an expedient act on my part. 
All you have any claim to be told is, that, however costly 
and complicated, however dangerous even, the means em- 
ployed may have been (that I say nothing about), the ulti- 
mate end has been obtained. The Venus, sir, will be re- 
stored to her pla»e in the Gallery at Wricklesmarsh Court 
without a scratch on her ! ” 

“You don’t say so! Lor!” cried Leander, hoping that 
his countenance would keep his secret, “well, there now. 
And my ring, sir, if you remember — isn’t that on her?” 

“ You mustn’t expect us to do everything : your ring was, 
as I had every reason to expect it would be, missing. But 
I shall be talking the matter over with Sir Peter Purbecke, 
who’s just come back to Wrinklesmarsh from the Continent, 
and, provided — ahem ! — you don’t go talking about this 
affair, I should feel justified in recommending him to make 
you some substantial acknowledgment for any — well, little 
inconvenience you may have been put to on account of 
your slight connection with the business, and the steps I 
may have thought proper to take in consequence. And, 
from all I hear of Sir Peter, I think he would be inclined 
to come down uncommonly handsome.” 

“Well, Mr. Inspector,” said Leander, “all I can say is 
this : if Sir Peter was to know the life his statue has led 
me for the past few days, I think he’d say I deserved it — 
I do, indeed ! ” 


CONCLUSION. 

The narrow passage off Southampton Row is at present 
without a hair-dresser’s establishment ; Leander having re- 
signed his shop, long since, in favor of either a fruiterer 
or a stationer. 


THE TINTED PENES. 


149 


But, in one of the leading West End thoroughfares there 
is a large and prosperous hair-cutting saloon, over which 
the name of “ Tweddle ” glitters resplendent, and the 
books of which would prove too much for Matilda, even 
if more domestic duties had not begun to claim her at- 
tention. 

Leander’s troubles are at an end. Thanks to Sir Peter 
Purbecke’s munificence, he has made a fresh start; and, 
so far. Fortune has prospered him. The devices he has 
invented for correcting Nature’s more palpable errors in 
taste are becoming widely known, while he is famous, too, 
as the gifted author of a series of brilliant and popular 
hairwashes. He is accustoming his clients to address him 
as “ Professor” — a title which he has actually had conferred 
upon him from a quarter in which he is, perhaps, the most 
highly appreciated — for prosperity has not exactly lessened 
his self-esteem. 

Mr. Jauncy, too, is a married man, although he does not 
respond so heartily to congratulations ; there is no intimacy 
between the two households, the heads of which recognize 
that, as Leander puts it, “their wives harmonize better 
apart.” 

To the new collection of Casts from the Antique, at South 
Kensington, there has been recently added one which ap- 
pears in the official catalogue under the following descrip- 
tion : — 

“333. The Cytherean Venus. Marble statue. Found in 
a grotto in the island of Cerigo. Now in the collection 
of Sir Peter Purbecke, at Wricklesmarsh Court, Black- 
heath. 

“ This noble work has been indifferently assigned to vari- 
ous periods; the most general opinion, however, pronounces 
it to be a copy of an earlier work of Alkamenes, or possibly 
Kephisodotos. 

“The unusual smallness of the extremities seems to be- 
tray the hand of a restorer, and there are traces of color in 
the" original marble, which are supposed to have been 
added at a somewhat later period.” 

Should Professor Tweddle ever find himself in the 
Museum on a Bank holiday, and enter the new gal- 
lery, he could hardly avoid seeing the magnificent cast 
numbered 333 in the catalogue, and reviving thereby 


THE TINTED VENUS. 


150 

sundry recollections he has almost succeeded in sup- 
pressing. 

But this is an experience he will probably spare him- 
self ; for he is known to entertain, on principle, very strong 
prejudices against sculpture, and more particularly the 
Antique. 


THE END. 


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—St. James' Gazette. 

‘‘‘Yolande’ will please ani interest 
many.” — Whitehall Review. 

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published in Blackwood* & Mage 
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scene in Scotland . . . It is impossible 
to imagine sketches more lifelike than 
those of old Boils, the pragmatic but- 
ler ...of Miss Barbara Erskine, the 
high-spirited, punci Uotts, but sensi- 
ble old aunt; of Lord Biutoul, the 
weakly yet coolly selli.-h and sensible 
young lord of the ordinary young 

. By Mrs. Oliphant. Originally 
izine. 1 vol., 12 mo., cloth, gilt, $1. 
laird John Erskine, and of the most 
modern of marquises. Lord Mille- 
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“ ‘The Ladies Lindores’ is in every 
respect excellent .. There are two 
girls at least in this book who might 
make the fortune jf any novel, being 
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LOYS, LOED BERESFOli 
Author of “Phyllis,” “Mollj 
1 vol., 12mo., cloth, gilt, $l.i 
126, 1 vol., 12mo., paper coi 
“That delightful writer the author 
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ID, and o-her Tales. By the 

1 Bawn,” “Mrs. Geoffrey,” etc. 
)0; also in Lovell’s Library, No. 
/er, 20 cents. 

ular. There is something good in all 
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NO NEW THING. By W 

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‘‘M r. Norris has sncceeded. His 
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. F. Norris, Author of “Matri- 
'ersac,” etc*. 1 vol., 12mo., cloth, 
Library, No. 108, 20 cents. 

” ‘Nc New Thing’ is bright, readable 
and clever, and in every sense of the 
word a thoroughly luterebting book.” 
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AEDEN. By A. M ary F. Kobi 
Library, No. 134, 15 cents. 

“Miss Robinson must certainly be 
congratulated on having scored a suc- 
cess at the very beginning of her ca- 
reer. ‘Arden’ is an extremely clever 
story, and though it is one merely of 
every -day life, yet the incidents are so 
clothed as to appear fresh and new, 
and the scent of the bay throughout 
Is invigorating and refreshing. The 
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book, is a wild, impulsive creature 
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NSON. 1 Vvi., 12mo., in Lovell's 

acter. Brought up in Rome, on the 
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son for a very good novel indeed . 
Whitehall Review. 

Jfew York: JOHY W. 1.0 VE)!.!. COMPANY, 



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COOPER’S NOVELS. 


LIBRARY EDITION 


Well printed from new plates on good paper. Com- 
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28. The Sea-Lions. 

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31. Precaution. 

32. Ways of the Hour. 


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